


and tomorrow spills across the sky

by orphan_account



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 05:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18565297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I’ve heard dreams are— not quite the miroh, but it’s a step toward it,” Changbin says. “I think if you’re meeting this guy in your dreams, then you two are connected somehow. Like, your fates are intertwined.”Jisung gapes. “So we’re soulmates?” He’s heard a story about soulmates once.“Of course not, soulmates aren’t real. What are you, five?” Changbin says, like he didn’t just talk about the spiritual a few seconds ago. Jisung won’t point that out, though— he’s too busy being relieved.Jisung would sell his soul to the devil, if it was half of Hyunjin’s.[Jisung is a servant. Hyunjin is the astronomer's apprentice. They have to walk many miles together— too bad they get off on the wrong foot.]





	and tomorrow spills across the sky

**Author's Note:**

> for @triviamiroh. this is kind of a random gift, but your twt about the miroh album giving medieval vibes inspired me to write this, and so i hope you can read it + derive some enjoyment. 
> 
> title taken from "grip" by bastille, seeb

“Get out.”

“Rude,” Jisung says, closing the door behind him. “This has to be a new record— I’m barely in the room, and you’re already being mean.”

“Like you aren’t used to that.”

“Next time, I’m not visiting you,” Jisung sighs. Changbin says nothing, and Jisung squints. He’s known Changbin for several years, and although Jisung is aware Changbin has a heart softer than sand, his poker face is harder than rock. “Wait, are you really busy? I can leave, then.”

“I’m not any busier than usual.” Changbin raises a pointed eyebrow. “I’m just thinking about what happened last time.”

Jisung’s already forgotten all about that, but he supposes Changbin hasn’t. Long story short: Jisung came into the room, stayed for half an hour, and fell asleep. Changbin was so absorbed in his work he didn’t notice until it was midnight, and then he freaked out.

“This time, I swear I’ll stay awake,” Jisung says. He mimes a cross over his heart. “I promise.”

“I don’t doubt you’re going to try, but can I remind you that your sleep schedule runs very differently from mine and that you always like to pretend to have more energy than you really do?” Jisung pulls a face, and Changbin groans. “ _Fine_. I’ll try and keep an eye on you so you don’t die on me or whatever.”

“ _So_ little faith in me.”

Changbin coughs, takes a look at the jar he’s holding and scribbles something down on a piece of parchment. Probably taking inventory or something. Jisung isn’t sure what being a court apothecary— or, well, ghost court apothecary, as Changbin likes to describe himself, since all he does is the dirty work— entails. Jisung hops up on a stool unoccupied by any jars and crosses his legs.

“Here, since you’re staying, make yourself useful,” Changbin says, and hands Jisung a cup and several dried leaves as long as his forearms. “Shred these into small pieces and then put them into the cup.”

Well, Jisung can’t mess that up. He gets to work pulling the leaves apart, keeping his mouth shut. Changbin’s busy, he can tell, so Jisung will try not to talk _too_ much, even though he hates silence. He looks around the room, at all the jars sitting on the shelves, and tries to read their labels in the distance. He gives up after one— he can’t read very well, and Changbin’s handwriting is illegible.

Halfway through shredding the leaves, Jisung sneezes, and Changbin looks over, exasperated. “Bless you.”

“Thanks.” Jisung sneezes again. This place is dusty, and Changbin is used to that, but Jisung isn’t. “Geez, how do you stay here all day? It smells.” It’s not a bad smell, necessarily, but the strong odor of spice and seed that pervades the air seems to seep through his skin and into his lungs. Jisung probably wouldn’t last in here alone, but unlike him, Changbin doesn’t mind allergies _or_ loneliness.

“There was no smell until you walked in.”

“Haha, funny.” Jisung rolls his eyes. “Here’s your shredded leaves.”

“Thanks for your help.” Changbin scribbles something on the parchment again. “I’ll see if there’s anything else.”

“Yeah, let me know.” Jisung clenches his teeth to stifle his yawn. He _is_ tired, but he doesn’t want Changbin to know that. He gets off the stool and walks to the back of the room, examining the shelves. Sounds out the letters on the labels, much of which sound like nonsense more than anything else. _Diced wormroot. Dried coreopsis_. And— “Whoa, you got diamond dust?”

“Uh, absolutely not, is it labeled that?” Changbin says. “You think they would trust _me_ with diamond dust? It’s probably, like, crushed bird feces or something.”

Jisung lets go of the jar so fast it might as well be a hot potato. “That’s some heavy-duty mislabeling.”

“Yeah, well, first rule of being an apothecary is that half this shit is fake, and the other half is what people will believe in.” Jisung ignores the insinuation that he’s one of these gullible people and moves on to the little flower pot that Changbin’s got in the back of the room.

The flower pot usually just has weeds or upturned roots in it. Changbin says that _supposedly_ , it’s an enchanted flower, a gift from a magician, and that it’s meant to reflect the state of the kingdom. It could be a joke— the flower pot is in a dusty corner with no light, and the kingdom of Ninth is a mess sunny days or no— but Changbin waters it every day, and Jisung knows that while part of being an apothecary is being a liar, there are parts of the craft that are very, very serious.

Jisung looks into the pot, expecting nothing, and double takes when he sees a shoot of green and a hard bulb at the very end, not yet in bloom. “Changbin,” he says. “Your plant.”

“Huh? What about my plant? Is it okay?” Changbin says, coming over. He looks into the pot with Jisung. “Oh.”

“What’s that mean?” Jisung says.

There is no humor to Changbin’s voice when he speaks next.

“Change is coming,” he says, and reaches to touch the sprout. He turns to Jisung. “Go. It’s getting late.”

\---

Jisung plods his way over to the servants’ quarters, yawning into his hand.

He goes to sleep earlier than most of the servants in the court, but he gets up a lot earlier than most of them, too, since he works for the baker. He refuses to regret his visit to Changbin, but it’s going to be hell when he drags his ass out of bed the next morning.

Jisung climbs onto his bedroll. It’s warm, the start of summer, so he only pulls the thin sheets halfway up his body and falls asleep almost as soon as he shuts his eyes.

Most of the time, he doesn’t dream of anything, but when he does, he’s able to tell that he’s dreaming. It’s a funny ability he’s had ever since he was young. For a while, he slumbers in darkness, but then he opens his eyes in a dream. It’s the servant’s quarters, but nobody else is there. He gets off of the bedroll and looks around. He’s alone.

“Really boring dream,” he muses to himself.

A few minutes pass, Jisung staring off into space, and then there’s a sudden, “Where am I?” and Jisung whips around. A boy around his age is off to the side, staring at his surroundings. He wears a tunic and a blue pendant around his neck and a look of confusion on his face. “Who are you?”

“I think you’re in my dream,” Jisung says. This is fine; he’s in control. He can wake up at any moment, if need be. “And I could ask you the same thing. I’ve never seen you in my life.”

The boy’s looks don’t stand out to him that much: dark hair and artistic features, eyes narrowed and full lips twisted in a hard scowl. Jisung lives in the court; he sees this kind of harsh, uncaring beauty all the time, even if this boy might be more handsome than most. Jisung’s unfazed by physical beauty— he needs a smile to be attracted.

“And I’ve never seen you either,” the boy says. “Okay, look, am I going insane? Are you real? People don’t just share dreams.”

“I’m real. It’s my dream. You’re the one who isn’t real.”

“I _am_ real, thank you very much,” the boy says. He pinches himself, but he stays where he is. “But alright, I’ll play your game. If this is your dream, then what are you dreaming of? This is a really odd place.”

“It’s the servants’ quarters,” Jisung says. “But there’s usually more people than this.”

The boy’s expression suddenly shifts, taking on a certain animosity.

“Servants’ quarters. Must be a lot of servants,” he says, voice caustic. “Am I in the court?”

“You figured it out,” Jisung deadpans, deciding to dislike this boy. He’s got half a mind to wake up, but something pulls him to stay, probably his inability to resist a challenge. “What, you don’t like the court?”

“Ah, I guess _you_ figured it out, too.” The boy puts his hands behind his back, walks around. “Yeah, I hate the court. Would probably get executed in real life for saying that, but this is a dream. And I’m assuming, with the location of the dream…”

“That I’m a servant? Well, I guess we’re both just geniuses,” Jisung says. The other smirks, sharp, mouth curving up like a knife. “Who are you, anyway?”

“... I’ll give you my first name, but you have to tell me yours in return.”

Jisung considers for a moment, then decides there’s no harm. “Fine. I’m Jisung.”

“I’m Hyunjin. Still don’t believe you’re real. I guess I’ll forget all about you in the morning, anyway,” Hyunjin says. “We still got some time before morning, huh? Show me around.”

“I thought you said you hated the court.”

“I do. But I can hate something and be interested in something at the same time,” Hyunjin says, and walks out of the door of the servants’ quarters. Jisung contemplates not following, but in truth, he’s curious, and he sees a twisted sense in Hyunjin’s logic.

The servants’ quarters are located in a small building, and as Jisung walks out, he finds that the building looks distorted, a result of an imperfect memory. Further out, the court has some architecture missing, and the setting feels like a rough sketch, lines blurry and colors inverted. Hyunjin stands out with his detail, a sharp contrast.

“You’re pretty bad at dreaming,” Hyunjin comments.

“Hey, you’re in _my_ dream, so don’t complain. I doubt you’re much better.” In the back of his mind, Jisung registers that they sound like a pair of lunatics. “So. The court. Everything you imagined it to be?”

“ _Clearly_ , I can’t rely on you to give me a tour,” Hyunjin says. “But no, it isn’t. It’s the people I hate, not so much the place itself, and there’s no one else here but you.”

Jisung crosses his arms. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not enough.”

“Wonder where the prince is. His coronation will be in, what, a few months?” Hyunjin’s tone is dismissive, and Jisung’s blood boils. He’s going to punch somebody who isn’t real. “It won’t make a difference, anyway. We all know the court’s corrupted.”

“Shut your mouth about the prince.”

“And why on earth would I do that. You’re not the prince,” Hyunjin drawls. “I won’t be there for the coronation, don’t worry. _I_ won’t ruin it for you. But it’s a puppet court. The coronation will only be a changing of the strings.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Jisung says, furious. Hyunjin is just a figment of his imagination, but Jisung is ready to punch the living daylights out of him. He’s so pissed off that he thinks his vision actually turns red, but no, his dream is just dissolving, the lines of the court blurring like they’re underwater, and then his eyes snap open and he’s in the servants’ quarters for real.

\---

The sun isn’t even up yet as Jisung heads over to the bakery.

Morning air cuts through to his bones, and he shivers. He thinks about the dream from last night. It’s so… vivid. He can remember Hyunjin right down to his blue necklace.

Jisung tries not to think about it, but it’s hard, since the routine is so monotonous. The baker nods at him, and the two of them get to work kneading dough and baking it in the ovens, and Jisung grits his teeth against the soreness in his arms and the heat of the fire. By the time the sun has risen, there are several neat rows of bread, and Jisung wraps them and shoves them into his knapsack to make the morning rounds.

He wishes he could show Hyunjin the real court— even if he might hate it, it’s undeniably pretty. The court spans a couple of square kilometers, the palace in the center and the homes of the noble and rich fanning around it like a golden disk. Jisung’s tasked with delivering breakfast, and at this point, the route is memorized. He walks, the straps of the knapsack digging into his back. First stop is the palace. There’s a sudden flash in his mind of Hyunjin mocking the prince, and Jisung’s blood boils. Although, in the light of day, it’s rather stupid, how mad he got. He has no right to be as mad as he is.

The person that picks up the bread at the door isn’t the prince. But the woman that does says, “Hello,” and it’s nice all the same. Most people don’t bother to; the supposed goal is for the delivery boy to be invisible.

Hyunjin says Jisung is pretty bad at dreaming. That’s true— Jisung does pick the craziest dreams; he made up an entire person last night.

Still. That doesn’t beat out the sheer idiocy of being in love with the goddamn prince.

 _Wonder how Hyunjin would react if he found_ that _out_ , Jisung thinks bitterly, as he continues his routine. He shouldn’t be wondering about Hyunjin’s opinion on things. After this, he swears he’ll forget about the guy.

About the prince: Jisung’s in love with him, but in his defense, he hadn’t known how stupid of a move that would be until it actually happened. Also in his defense, it’s kind of impossible _not_ to fall in love with the prince.

“I managed not to,” Changbin had said, when Jisung expressed this sentiment, but at least Changbin didn’t mock him for it, or tell Jisung off for being an idiot.

Although, he doesn’t need to be told. He’s aware of the rules now. When Jisung first came to the palace, he was around ten, and he knew he was here to be a servant, but rules were looser, the world brighter, when he was a kid.

He made friends with Seo Changbin, ghost apothecary in training, and he also made friends with Bang Chan, who forgot to mention that he was the prince for an entire month.

Jisung wishes he had a better memory to remember those days, when Jisung, Changbin, and Chan were a trio, and would make up stories where they were heroes or warriors or sailors, ready to take on the world even if they were, in reality, a friendship doomed from the start. After awhile, it was hard for Jisung and Changbin to even make time to see each other, and now, Jisung can’t remember the last time he’s seen Chan.

He does, however, remember the day he fell in love. it was one of his first morning rounds. Chan had opened the door for him, hair askew. “Hi,” he said, and, “Thanks.”

It was like being struck by lightning, both by the realization that he’d fallen and by the knowledge that there was no way it could work out. Jisung stood there with the loaf of bread in his hand, painfully aware of his position, that he was at the bottom of the totem pole while Chan was at the very top.

It’s a sour memory, and it weighs heavy on him even if the knapsack lightens on his shoulders as he completes his task. He hands over loaves of still-warm bread, bows, and slips away. A ghost. After he’s done his rounds, he heads back to the bakery, taking the time to enjoy the sun on his shoulders. There’s a long day ahead.

The monotonous routine is interrupted when the the tailor stops by. Jisung steps out for a moment so that measuring tape can be wrapped around his arms and legs. When he comes back in, the baker looks at him and speaks. Her hands don’t stop moving even as she addresses him.

“Storm’s already started for the tailor,” she remarks. “At least we’ve still got a few weeks of normalcy left.”

“Why was I measured?” Although, Jisung thinks he already knows.

The baker gestures at him. “Because most days we look like messes, but we’re going to have to clean up a bit for the coronation. We’ll just be wearing tunics, don’t worry. The point is for us to blend into the background.”

Jisung nods, then turns back to the batter he was mixing.

“Enjoy this calm while it lasts,” the baker says. “The week before the ceremony, we’ll get no sleep at all.”

Jisung is slightly apprehensive when he goes to bed that night, but when he wakes up, he’s dreamt of nothing, and he’s relieved.

\---

Two weeks later, however, he falls asleep, and when he opens his eyes, he’s standing in an unfamiliar place. There is, however, someone there who _is_ familiar, and Jisung says, “Tell me your name isn’t Hyunjin.”

The boy turns around and looks at him. “Oh, fuck, I remember you,” he swears, and Jisung takes grim satisfaction that Hyunjin looks miserable to see him. “You… Jisung. With the squirrel cheeks.”

Jisung doesn’t even bother to take offense, having heard this comparison all his life. “Where are we?” he says. “I know I’m dreaming, but I’ve never been in this place before.”

Hyunjin doesn’t respond to that, instead putting his head in his hands. “I’m going insane, I’m really going insane,” he says. “Why are you here? I’ve never met you, that one time was interesting but really I don’t want you _here_.”

“I feel so welcomed,” Jisung says, attempting to make light of the situation even if he’s unnerved as well. After that first dream, he’s done his best to forget Hyunjin, the eerie way they both asked if the other was real.

Jisung walks around. He’s in a cramped room, light streaming in from a tiny window on the wall. There’s a bed on one side, a desk on the other. On the desk are books, what seem to be maps, and parchment paper with squiggles on them. Looking closer at the squiggles, he finds that they really are just squiggles, no words. When he tries a book, it’s even worse— the book is completely empty.

“I guess you’re not that good at dreaming, either, huh,” Jisung says. “Is this where you sleep?”

“Jisung, I— _yes_ it’s where I fucking sleep, and I met you where you fucking slept, and I’m so confused because I don’t understand why these meetings are happening, but I don’t want to meet you, servant from the damn court. You know you’re dreaming, right? You knew last time.”

“Yes. I always know when I dream.”

“A rather useless skill, but if you know, would you try waking up? I’m sure you don’t want to be here anymore than I do.”

That’s true, but now he’s going to stay, just because Hyunjin wants him to leave. “Not so fast. You know I’m a servant from the court. Tell me where we are now, and then we’ll leave.”

“That’s such an annoying request,” Hyunjin says. “Now I _really_ can’t tell if my mind made you up or not.”

“Answer the question.”

“I’m an astronomer’s apprentice. This is my dorm,” Hyunjin says. He gestures over at his desk. “In reality, the desk is a lot more impressive. Maps. Calculations.”

Astronomer’s apprentice. That’s such a beautiful occupation for somebody who has been so unkind to him thus far. “I like the stars,” Jisung comments.

“And I’m kind of sick of them by now.” There’s no heat to Hyunjin’s words, and Jisung can’t help it— he forgets their animosity and laughs. Hyunjin scowls, looking at him expectantly. “Now that I’ve told you, can you please try to wake up? I want to panic about hallucinating in peace.”

Jisung pretends not to hear.

“What’s outside of this room?” he asks, and steps outside of the door. He finds himself at the end of a hall, more rooms on either side, and the hall gets blurrier and blurrier the farther Jisung tries to look. He seems to be in some kind of dormitory.

And suddenly, Jisung desperately wants to wake up. Without looking back to see what Hyunjin is doing, Jisung widens his eyes. It works— there’s this weird realization that his eyes are closed even though they seem open, and he wakes, blinking into darkness, a shaft of moonlight streaming through a crack in the wall.

Jisung wonders if he should try to go back to sleep before he decides against it. He pulls his legs up and props his chin on his knees, questions swirling in his mind. Is Hyunjin real? Is he really out there somewhere in the world, and are the two of them sharing dreams? And if so— _why_?

\---

Exhaustion catches up with him halfway through the day.

Nevertheless, he fights the pull of sleep to head over for a consultation session with the ghost apothecary. Changbin greets him with a friendly, “What are those bags under your eyes?”

“I was asked to wake up a little after midnight, so excuse me,” Jisung says. “Can you give me some leaves to shred, or something? I need something to do with my hands.”

Changbin passes him flower stalks, instructing him to pull the seeds out. “You were told to wake up after midnight?” Changbin says. “Sorry if I’m getting this wrong, but don’t you already get up really early?”

“Compared to you, yes,” Jisung says. “Look— I just need to ask you a question.”

“Oh no,” Changbin mumbles. Jisung glares. “I mean, ask away.”

Jisung strips the outer husk of the plant off, deciding that Changbin knows him a bit too well. “What does it mean if you dream about the same person more than once?”

“Uh,” Changbin says, and Jisung realizes that perhaps he should have worded his question a bit more specifically. Too late. “I guess it might mean you’re in love?”

It takes Jisung a moment to shake off the horrifying idea of being in love with Hyunjin. “Okay, that’s not it,” he says vehemently, and Changbin looks at him, confounded. “I mean, what if you’ve never met the person in real life?”

Changbin is silent for a moment. “That’s never happened to me before,” he says, and Jisung’s heart sinks. “Elaborate.”

“I’ve dreamt of this guy twice. He told me his first name was Hyunjin.” Well, that might have been a lie, but that’s what Jisung is going with. “Uh— he seems to dislike me. We argued over whether the other person was real or not.”

“You’ve never seen this guy in real life.”

“Yes.”

“And you managed to get him to dislike you within two meetings?” Changbin says incredulously. Jisung shoves him. “Sorry, sorry. Okay, I’m just— I don’t know that much about dreams, but you know the theory about the two planes, right?”

“Yeah.” There’s the plane that they all exist on, the mundane world, and then there’s the one above it. It’s generally referred to as the miroh, and all Jisung knows about it is that it’s a higher realm, where the gods live, and it’s governed by concepts such as spirit and destiny more than science and math. Changbin was the one who told him about it. The miroh is relevant to his craft— magic in the miroh seeps into the earth and is retained by plants so that they have the properties they do.  Meanwhile, Jisung has nothing to do with the miroh. He just wants to get by on this plane, thanks.

“I’ve heard dreams are— not quite the miroh, but it’s a step toward it,” Changbin says. “I think if you’re meeting this guy in your dreams, then you two are connected somehow. Like, your fates are intertwined.”

Jisung gapes. “So we’re soulmates?” He’s heard a story about soulmates once.

“Of course not, soulmates aren’t real. What are you, five?” Changbin says, like he didn’t just talk about the spiritual a few seconds ago. Jisung won’t point that out, though— he’s too busy being relieved.

Jisung would sell his soul to the devil, if it was half of Hyunjin’s.

“Do you think I made him up?” Jisung says. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I mean, I’ve only seen him twice…”

“Look, that’s your call to make, not mine, but from what you’ve told me, it seems like you think he’s real,” Changbin says, and Jisung files that information away to muse about later. “Tell me if you dream about him again.”

“Will do.”

\---

Jisung doesn’t dream of Hyunjin again, and the question of his existence takes a backseat as the coronation approaches.

A plain tunic, his attire for the ceremony, is delivered to to the bakery, along with a long list of the types and quantities of pastries that will be required. Jisung realizes with dread that he really isn’t going to get any sleep.

_But it’s a puppet court. The coronation will only be a changing of the strings._

The phrase Hyunjin utters unnerves him. It’s something that convinces him that Hyunjin _is_ real, because Jisung couldn’t say or think something like that. Not with such utter contempt.

Obviously, Jisung isn’t the most well-versed in politics, but even he knows that their kingdom isn’t really theirs. Ninth was under the control of their neighboring kingdom, Chronos, before Jisung was even born.

The court Jisung lives in is a strange place. Jisung has heard whispers of the deals that the king made, the pain the commoners go through to meet the quotas that the officials of Chronos have set. But he is by no means in any position to talk of what will happen to the kingdom now that the king has passed away. All Jisung knows is this: right around when Jisung stopped being a kid, Chan promised to be a good king in the future.

And Jisung remembers that Chan sounded _terrified_.

But Jisung shouldn’t be worrying about that. All Jisung’s supposed to do is haul in ingredients and fulfill recipes and make sure his pastries are decent. The ovens are on all the time, and Jisung feels like he’s encased in heat and flour, like he’ll never be able to wash all of the work off his body.

He kneads dough, pours batter into molds, ices until his hands are sore. At three days before the coronation, he stops leaving the kitchen, and he sleeps less than two hours a night. Jisung considers himself an energetic person, but all this takes a toll on him. He doesn’t dare make a mistake, though.

\---

Midnight, he’s allowed to sleep. He lies down on the floor and passes out, exhausted.

He wakes up in a dream where he’s shrouded in mist. Under his feet are cobblestoned streets— around him, he’s surrounded by walls twice his height. It’s eerily silent. He walks around, then hits a dead end. Huh. A maze?  

“WOOJIN!”

The voice pierces through the quiet, and it’s full of so much fear that Jisung shivers just from hearing it. The voice is familiar, but Jisung’s never heard it sound like _that._

“WOOJIN!” Hyunjin calls out again, desperate. “WOOJIN, WHERE ARE YOU? I CAN’T FIND YOU!”

Jisung backs out of the dead end, breaking out into a run to nowhere before slowing to a stop. “Hey,” he calls out, timid. He isn’t even sure Hyunjin heard him. Maybe he should try to wake up—

“Hey?” Hyunjin says, tone hopeful. “Woojin?”

Oh, shit. Doesn’t matter that Jisung doesn’t like Hyunjin— Jisung suddenly wishes that he was the person that Hyunjin is looking for. “No, sorry. It’s, um, Jisung,” he says. “We’re dreaming. Do you want me to wake up?”

There’s silence. Then a resounding, “Fuck.”

“Where are you, anyway?” Jisung says. “What is this place?”

“I have no idea.”

Jisung turns. Hyunjin’s voice is coming somewhere from his left. He puts a hand on the wall and jogs, following the twists and turns, until finally, Jisung sees a shadowy figure a few feet ahead. “Ah,” Hyunjin says. “You found me. Nice.”

“Yeah.”

Hyunjin fiddles with his necklace, twisting the blue pendant. “I’m starting to think you’re appearing in my dreams for a reason,” he says.

“Maybe I am. You seem very convinced that they’re you’re dreams.”  

“Would it make you feel better if I said they were _our_ dreams?” Hyunjin says, raising his eyebrows. His hair is disheveled, sweat beading down his face. He must have been running for some time before Jisung appeared. “Shared?”

Jisung doesn’t deign that with a response. “Who’s Woojin?” he finally asks.

Several emotions flicker across Hyunjin’s face. “He’s my friend. I guess… in this dream. I was looking for him.”

Jisung squashes down his urge to comfort Hyunjin, reminding himself that Hyunjin probably doesn’t want comfort, and also, Jisung doesn’t really like the other boy. “No worries,” Jisung settles on saying. “It’s just a dream.”  

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure about that,” Hyunjin says. His face is impassive, but his voice is sad. Mist swirls around them. Jisung realizes too late that Hyunjin’s dreams might not just be dreams. “Let’s not talk about this.” And then he walks off, disappearing into the fog, leaving Jisung alone in the maze.

“So weird,” Jisung mutters to himself. And then the fog dissipates; the walls of the maze turn wavy.

“Rise and shine, coronation’s today,” someone says. There’s a kick to his side, and Jisung blinks open his eyes to find himself on the hard floor of the kitchen, entire body sore, and then another one of the servants is pulling him up and dragging him out.

\---

Jisung wrestles himself into the tunic that the tailor made, and then he goes to help carry the various breads and pastries into the great hall of the palace, fingers tight around the silver platters, praying  he doesn’t drop something.

He’s dizzy, has a terrible headache, as if someone is trying to split his skull in two. He squints at the clock on the wall: thirty minutes until the coronation. Outside the window, he can see people flooding into the courtyard. From here, Jisung will not be able to witness the coronation.

“Hey,” the baker says, and Jisung turns. She nods over to the window. “Do you want to watch the ceremony?”

Jisung stares at her, speechless. The baker has never been kind with her words, and Jisung doesn’t think he’s ever gotten a compliment or a thank you from her in his life, but she’s taken care of him in other ways, and this offer is an impossible gift. “Yes— um—”

“Then what are you doing here? Scram.”

Jisung sprints out of the great hall and navigates his way into the courtyard. He’s got no place up there with the nobles and officials, but he’ll be able to watch from the back. He scans the crowd and sees a familiar face, so he weaves through people, shoving through them with mumbled _excuse mes_. “Hey, Changbin?”

“Jisung!” Changbin says, momentarily delighted before logistics catch up to him. “— Are you supposed to be here?”

“Are _you_ supposed to be here, ghost apothecary?” Jisung scoffs. His headache is getting worse by the second, but hell if he’s he going to complain.

“I’m probably supposed to be here more than you’re supposed to be here,” Changbin retorts, and Jisung dips his head in acknowledgment. He regrets the action a second later— it’s like his neck has been set on fire. “But then again, we’re never really where we’re supposed to be.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Jisung says, quiet.

“Watching the prince become the king? Yeah. I wouldn’t miss this for the world, either.”

Jisung takes note of the careful use of the word _prince_. He can’t be sure of what Changbin is really thinking, but Changbin is extremely polite, always careful not to address the prince by name. Jisung has been less successful in that. “Oh, I think it’s starting,” Changbin says.

This far back, Jisung can’t hear much of what’s going on, only see. He squints, trying to take it all in, trying to ignore how his head feels like it’s about to explode. Chan comes out onto the balcony, and the crowd erupts into cheers; Jisung’s hands fly up to his skull on instinct, and Changbin shoots him a concerned look. Jisung waves the look off. _I’m okay,_ he mouths, pointing forward. _Let’s watch_.

The queen comes up to say something that Jisung can’t make out, then a noble, then an official, then another official. Jisung wills himself to stay strong through the speeches, staring at Chan, who’s sitting off to the side. One of the officials in particular speaks with a strong Chronosen accent, and Jisung thinks of Hyunjin’s words.

 _Puppet court— just a changing of the strings_.

He shakes his head. The pressure in his skull builds; he’s having a hard time standing. Jisung thinks of last night dream’s, the sheer terror in Hyunjin’s voice. Changbin asked him to report if he had these dreams again— Jisung supposes he’ll tell sometime after the coronation.

“And now for the prince!”

Chan steps up. A glass bowl is placed in front of him, filled with some kind of clear liquid, and a blade is handed to him. Chan makes a cut through his palm with the blade, and red spills into the bowl, where it turns into a bright gold.

It’s official now, Jisung supposes. Sadness suddenly overtakes him.

Jisung suddenly feels a terrible pain in his right hand, like Chan had cut into his hand instead of his own. Jisung whispers a swear and clutches his wrist. Changbin whips his head over. Jisung stares down at his hand— the skin seems to be splitting open. He flicks his eyes back up to the balcony, where the crown is about to be placed upon Chan’s head. Sparks explode in his field of vision, and his knees buckle— he can only feel Changbin’s hand wrap around his arm before everything goes black.

\---

Jisung wakes up to the smell of spices. He coughs.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Changbin says, voice filtering over. Jisung blinks, eyes bleary. The first thing he registers is that it no longer feels like there’s a volcano in his head, which is a relief. The second thing he registers is that he’s lying on a bench in the apothecary’s back room.

Huh. How’d he get here? He tries to recall the memory of the past day.

“I can’t believe you had the nerve to pass out on me, I had to drag your ass _all the way here_ ,” Changbin says, irritated in his relief. He walks over and offers Jisung a hand, pulling him to a sitting position. “Not much of a place to sleep here. Sorry.”

“What happened,” Jisung says, mouth full of cotton. “What time is it?”

“Probably sometime past midnight, you’ve been out for a long time,” Changbin says. “Hey, look at this plant.”

Jisung finds this a strange request, but obliges. It’s Changbin’s enchanted flower. The bud he saw from last time has bloomed, petals a dark red, fanning around in a perfect circle. It’s beautiful, but also strangely haunting. “What’s that mean?”

“Not sure. Flowers don’t really give you the specifics. But it means _something_.” Changbin sighs. “Jisung… I’m not really sure what’s happening, but you need to look at your hand.” Jisung does so and flinches. On the back of his right hand is embedded a silver key. When he touches it, it just seems like his skin, but it definitely wasn’t there before.

“Okay,” Jisung says. “Um, there’s a key on my hand. That’s interesting.” He takes a deep breath. “OKAY, CHANGBIN, WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON—”

“Don’t panic,” Changbin hisses.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” Jisung asks, disbelieving. “It was sort of alright when I was just dreaming about this stranger that I’ve never met before in my life— oh, yeah, by the way, I dreamed of him last night again— but now there’s a key that’s burned onto my hand, and I passed out for the coronation, and—”

He stops. Amidst his panic, his mind decides to give him some hell for being so unfocused during the ceremony. His rational side tells him it’s probably for the best. He needs to start remembering that Chan’s probably forgotten about him. It was bad enough to to be in love with a prince, but it’s even worse to be in love with a king.

“Just, hear me out,” Changbin says. “While you were passed out, I did some research, and I found out something about the key on your hand. It’s a clé. Symbol of the miroh. The miroh has chosen you for a quest.”

Jisung says nothing.

“What the quest is I wouldn’t be able to tell you,” Changbin says. “I’m sorry about that.”

“No, thank you. I’m sorry about… totally losing it on you,” Jisung says. He looks at his hand. “A quest, huh?”

That idea terrifies him, especially since he isn’t sure what the quest is, but a small part of him is excited. Thus far, his life has been stable but boring. He stopped outwardly dreaming about being a sailor or a hero after he was too old for that, but sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he still makes up stories in his head.

“Maybe it’s got to with Hyunjin,” Changbin suggests.

That makes sense. The dreams and the clé. It can’t be a coincidence.

“Last night, in my dream,” Jisung says, slowly. “I was in a maze. I thought I was alone, but Hyunjin was in it, too. He was really desperate to find his friend Woojin. I think that’s a start. Maybe I have to meet Hyunjin, and then we have to go find Woojin.”

“Okay, the way you say it, it sounds reasonable,” Changbin says. “But it’s your dream, not mine, so I can’t tell you whether it’s right or wrong.”

“It’s just, whenever I have dreams with him, they never feel like dreams. They feel a lot like real life. When I’m just dreaming about myself I dream about stuff like burning the bread or accidentally giving raw dough to the palace or something,” Jisung says, and shudders. Changbin opens his mouth, shuts it. “So maybe it means something.”

“It’s not a bad place to start.”

Jisung suddenly realizes something. “But in my dreams, Hyunjin also really hates me. Because I’m part of the court.” He chews on his cheek. “I wonder… in real life, if he’ll hate me as well?”

“If it makes you feel better, I was extremely irritated and annoyed at you when we first met,” Changbin says, and Jisung glares at him, eyebrows raised. “Okay, but you grew on me. We’re friends _now_.”

“I _guess_ ,” Jisung says.  

The door creaks open, and the baker walks in. “I let you go for one moment and you pass out,” she says, hands on her hips. Jisung tries to look guilty. “I heard from your friend that you’ve got a clé on your hand.”

“Yes,” Jisung says.

She’s silent for a moment, her mouth pulling into a tight line.

Then: “And this means you’ve been given a quest from the miroh. I don’t know much about the miroh, but I do know where it’s the gods live, and I don’t mess with the gods. I suggest you don’t mess with the gods, either.”

“So you’re telling me to go on the quest?” Jisung says.

“You’ll have to leave the court.”

He doesn’t understand why she looks so sad.

She spells it out for him. “Unfortunately, there are many tasks to be filled around the court. I’m the baker, and depending on how long you’re gone, I’ll have to figure out how to replace you. I can’t guarantee that you will keep your place here when you return.”

Oh.

Fear ripples through him. He doesn’t know how to do anything but bake. He came to the court when he was ten and doesn’t remember much about his hometown. Jisung stares at the clé on his hand, which seems to shimmer on his skin. If he lost his place in the court…

“I’ll go on the quest,” he says. “I think I have to.” His voice is faint.

“I’m sorry,” she says. She has never apologized to him in his life, and Jisung knows that if he leaves, then this is probably the end of his time here. “If you think I can help you on your quest in any way, tell me.”

Jisung nods at her, then looks at Changbin. If he doesn’t keep his position as a servant… will he be able to see Changbin again? The key on his hand burns into his skin, and he hisses in pain. In his heart, he realizes that this quest is not a choice, that this isn’t like the games he’d imagined when he was younger. He realizes that it is difficult to be brave, but there is no room for fear.

“Do you know where an astronomer’s apprentice might live?” he asks.

\---

He leaves that night, a knapsack on his back, which contains a few coins, a canteen of water, a few loaves of bread, a chunk of cheese, and a sketched map.

Seungjeon Academy is several kilometers away. He estimates that he’ll be walking for at least a day, probably more. The Academy is well-known, the most prestigious school in Ninth. It’s outside of the court, but not _too_ far. Jisung wonders if this is where Hyunjin is, or if he’s just guessing, if his dreams really are just dreams.

A high wall surrounds the court, where several sentries are positioned. Jisung pushes open the gate and heads out. It will not be so easy to go back in. No turning back now, he supposes.

Jisung stops at noon to drink some water and to look at the map. It is not an overstatement to say that he has no idea where he is— he’s never been outside of the court since he was ten. A wave of exhaustion washes over him, and then his mind whispers a thought.

 _Jeongin_.

 _No_ , Jisung thinks. _Later_. He has to find Hyunjin first.

He stands up and begins to walk again, reaching a small inn just as the sun has set. He pays the owner two coins, then goes to the room that he’s been allotted, lying down on the small bedroll and closing his eyes, exhausted. He can’t feel his feet except for the blisters blooming on his heels.

A dream would be useful now, but of course, Jisung gets nothing. He wakes up before the sun has risen out of habit, and he eats a chunk of bread before setting out. His footsteps echo against the road.

This early in the morning, he should be alone, but then he hears a dissonance, another set of footsteps.

There’s a man on the edge of the road, features Chronosen. Jisung averts his eyes and tries to walk past. “Hey,” the man says. His voice is firm, blades underneath. “Strange for you to be out so early in the morning. Where are you heading?”

“I’m going to visit… a friend.”

“Hmm. Then you won’t mind if I check your knapsack, then,” the man says. He smiles, and Jisung’s heart rate skyrockets. Jisung slowly takes the straps off of his shoulders, and hands the pack over. The man dumps the contents out. Nothing incriminating. “Alright. Have a nice visit.”

And the man continues on his way.

Jisung stands paralyzed, afraid to move. When he’s certain the man won’t turn around, he goes to pick up the scattered contents of his bag. The man was probably looking for diamonds or precious metals in there. But all Jisung has in his bag is bread.

He looks at the map. If he went in the correct direction, then he should be at the Seungjeon Academy soon. Even if he hasn’t, he reasons with himself, he can’t be far off. The court is in the middle of Ninth, and the Seungjeon Academy is in the small ring around it. Outside of that are the fields and the mines that Jisung hasn’t seen in so long.

In the afternoon, he runs into a woman sitting cross-legged on the side of the street. “Hello,” he says.

“Hi,” she answers.

“Would you happen to know where the Seungjeon Academy is?”

“Oh, you’re very close,” she says. “It’s only a few kilometers to the right.”

Jisung bows. “Thank you very much.”

\---

Seungjeon Academy is an elegant stone building, covered in vines. Next to it is a less elegant stone building to house the students, equally covered in vines. Around it is an imposing fence with a tall gate. A guard stands in front, arms crossed, eyes hard.

Jisung shifts from one foot to another before taking a deep breath and walking up to the sentry, who glares at him all the way there. “Hello,” he says, then realizes he has no idea what to say. “I— I’m a visitor.”

“Who are you visiting?”

Dammit, Hyunjin didn’t give him a last name. “Um— Hyunjin. Astronomer’s apprentice. I’m his friend.”

Jisung has a wild hope that the sentry will give him confirmation that there is indeed a Hyunjin who is an astronomer’s apprentice. At least, he hopes the sentry will let him through. Instead, the sentry barks out a harsh laugh.

“Sorry, kid. We don’t take visitors. Scram.”

The fence is way too high— no way Jisung could jump it. And the sentry’s arms are about the size of Jisung’s head, so there’s no way Jisung could try and wrestle him, either. This is a futile chase. He should just go back to the palace— the baker probably hasn’t found a replacement for him yet. But then his hand sears, and he grimaces, gripping his wrist on instinct.

The sentry’s eyes flick down to the motion, and Jisung has an idea.

“You see this on my hand?” he says, showing the sentry the tattoo. “It’s a clé. Symbol of the miroh. You know what that means?”

The sentry takes a step back. “The miroh.”  

“It’s where the gods live,” Jisung says. He tries to remember what the baker had told him. “I’ve been sent here on a mission. I suggest you let me through. Who knows what the gods will do if you interfere.”

“You’re joking,” the sentry says, but Jisung can see the fear in his eyes.

Jisung stares off at him.

“You want to chance it?”

“... Fine. Don’t do anything funny while in there.”

He moves aside, and Jisung walks through the gate, tense, afraid that the sentry will change his mind and yank him back. When he chances a glance behind his shoulder, he sees that he’s a good few meters past the gate, and that the sentry hasn’t made a move. Jisung ducks down and heads toward the building that he was informed houses the students.

There’s a door on the side, thankfully unlocked, and Jisung walks through. It’s unfortunate, he thinks, that he and Hyunjin were too busy antagonizing each other in their dreams to tell each other set locations.

But this is the right place. His heart lifts. This is the hall in the second dream, with the doors on either side. Jisung heads down the hall, and he comes face to face with a door squished all the way at the end, just like in his dream.

He tries the door. It’s locked. He grits his teeth, then raps on the surface with his knuckles. There’s the sound of scuffling, footsteps; Jisung holds his breath. The door swings open. “I told you, Seungmin, I’m—”

It’s Hyunjin. The boy from his dreams. Down to the blue pendant hanging around his neck.

The two of them stare each other down for a second, and then Hyunjin tries to slam the door in his face. Thankfully, Jisung has good reflexes— he automatically pushes back, arms straining with the force. “Let me _in_ ,” Jisung says.

“What are you doing here?” Hyunjin says, doubling his strength. “Is this another dream?”

“No, it’s not, just let me in,” Jisung snaps. Hyunjin just continues to push upon the door. “I swear, I’m _real_ , you didn’t make me up. And I didn’t make you up either. Just— would you let me _explain_?”

Hyunjin suddenly lets go of the door, and Jisung falls through. Once Jisung’s regained his bearings, he glares.

“Fine,” Hyunjin says, eerily calm. “Explain.”

“Alright.” Jisung takes a look around the room— it’s _tiny_. In the dreams, it’d been larger; the real thing is almost too small to fit the two of them. Otherwise, it’s the same. Bedroll squished against the wall. A desk crowded with books and papers.

Hyunjin looks at him expectantly, and Jisung curses himself for not having  a pre-planned speech. “So. The dreams. We’ve been sharing dreams because the universe, uh, bonded us together.”

Hyunjin recoils. “So,” he says, horrified, “We’re soulmates?”

“No, we’re not soulmates,” Jisung says, mildly offended at Hyunjin’s reaction even if Jisung’s initial one was the exact same. “Our, uh, fates are intertwined.”

“That really doesn’t sound any better than soulmates,” Hyunjin says, which is true, but Jisung won’t admit that. “But, okay. I guess I can believe that. So… you decided to find me? You’ve found me, good job. You can go back to the court now.”

Jisung crosses his arms. “I actually can’t. I left the court.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen, and Jisung takes a satisfaction in seeing the other trip over his words. “You _left the court_ ,” he says, sounding lost. “You left the court… to find me?”

When put  like that, it sounds stupid.

“Kind of, but— it’s hard to explain,” Jisung says. “Do you know what the miroh is?”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen in recognition. “The miroh? I had to take _so_ many notes on it last year,” Hyunjin says, sounding mildly traumatized, and Jisung remembers they’re in an academy. He finds himself wondering about Hyunjin’s life as a student. “But yeah, I know about it. What’s that got to do with anything?”

Jisung holds up his hand, and Hyunjin’s gaze flicks to it. Understanding dawns on his face. “So you’ve been sent on a quest,” Hyunjin murmurs. “I’ve never met anyone who’s gotten a clé. But I read… if you get a clé, you shouldn’t refuse the miroh.”

At least Hyunjin got it right away, without Jisung having to try and explain. “Yes. I got it a few days ago, while the prince was getting coronated. It was the day after we had that dream in the maze. I thought that maybe you had something to do with the quest.”

“Did it hurt?”

“What?”

Hyunjin nods toward his hand. “When you got the clé. I read it does.”

“Yes, it hurt. I passed out.”

He regrets admitting that a second later, but Hyunjin says, “I’m sorry.” Jisung stares at Hyunjin in disbelief, who returns the sentiment in equal measure. “What? I’m not going to be happy you passed out, I’m not that terrible of a person.”

“Okay,” Jisung concedes. He’s relieved that Hyunjin doesn’t say anything about the coronation thing— the last time they talked about the prince, Jisung had nearly punched the other. “So— the miroh.”

Hyunjin just looks at him for a long second, then sighs. “I believe you.”

Jisung is washed over with an overwhelming sense of relief, followed by overwhelming hunger. It’s past evening. He slings the knapsack off his shoulder, removes a loaf of bread, and breaks a chunk off. Hyunjin looks at him in disbelief.

“I haven’t eaten in hours. Was too busy trying to get here,” Jisung says, and pops a bite in his mouth.

“You eat like a squirrel, too,” Hyunjin notes. Jisung glares but can’t refute— for one, his mouth is full, and for two, Changbin’s told him that, too.

There’s an awkward silence as he finishes up the bread. Jisung hates quiet. As soon as he finishes, he says, “In the dream, when we were in the maze, you were looking for your friend Woojin.” He halts, not sure what to say next.

“Yes.” Hyunjin sighs. “About that… someone should be here right about now.”

There’s a knock on the door, and Hyunjin goes up to get it.

\---

The room is _way_ too small for three people.

Hyunjin closes the door. Jisung stares at the newcomer, who stares back at him, then says, “Hyunjin, you’ve got some explaining to do.”

“Alright then,” Hyunjin says. “Seungmin, this is Jisung. Jisung, this is Seungmin.”

“We’ve never met before,” Seungmin says to Jisung, eyes narrowed. “You don’t go here.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Hyunjin says flatly. “Jisung’s from the court.”

“The court?” Seungmin says, and Hyunjin nods. Fortunately, Seungmin doesn’t react with hatred. He only raises an eyebrow. “Hyunjin, you really do go looking for trouble.”

“Yeah, well, in this instance, trouble got soul-bonded to me,” Hyunjin mutters. “Jisung, Seungmin’s one of the cartographer’s apprentices. He’s my best friend.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes. “Sometimes I regret that fact.”

Hyunjin shrugs. “Anyway, Jisung’s the guy I told you about, from my dreams. Except it turns out that he’s real. Long story short, apparently our fates are intertwined, he’s got a clé mark on his hand, and he thinks that I’ve got something to do with the quest that’s been handed to him.”

A pause.

“That sounds… extremely complicated,” Seungmin says carefully, looking like he’s struggling to digest the information and/or hold back a flood of other comments. “Does this change your plans for tomorrow?”

Hyunjin twists his mouth. “Only that I guess now he’s coming with.”

“I’m coming with you to do what?” Jisung asks.

“I’m going to go look for Woojin tomorrow,” Hyunjin says. “Speaking of which, Seungmin, you got the map?”

“Yeah, I do,” Seungmin says. Looking at Jisung, he says, “I’m gonna go now, but I gotta say, you are a very interesting development. Nice to meet you, and good luck. Hyunjin’s a handful.”

“Thanks,” Hyunjin deadpans.

Jisung already knows Hyunjin’s a handful, but doesn’t understand anything else. “Map for what?” Jisung says. Seungmin doesn’t answer, just waves and disappears out the door.

“I have questions,” Jisung says to Hyunjin. He doesn’t know where to start. Woojin? A forest? A map? Jisung also wonders if Hyunjin lands himself in strange situations a lot, considering how casually Seungmin had accepted his presence.

Hyunjin holds up an index finger. “You can bother me with questions later. It’s a long walk to the forest, we should rest.”

“I’m really confused right now.”

Hyunjin isn’t paying attention; instead, he surveys his room with his brows knit, like it’s the first time he’s seen it. “There’s only one bedroll,” Hyunjin says.

Jisung doesn’t see the problem. There’s only one bedroll, but Jisung is accustomed to sleeping anywhere. “No problem,” Jisung says dismissively. “I’ll take the floor.”

“No, you’re not,” Hyunjin says. “I may not be kind, but I know basic etiquette. You’re not sleeping on the floor.”

“I’m a servant— I’m basically _supposed_ to sleep on the floor.” Jisung would actually like to sleep on a bedroll, but he’s also not going to lose a fight against Hyunjin, pointless as it is.

“You’re not a servant anymore. You left the court,” Hyunjin points out, which is true. “This entire argument is ridiculous. You’re _technically_ a guest, you sleep on the bed. Got it?”

Jisung crosses his arms and lies down on the floor. Hyunjin looks at him in disbelief. “Guess we’re both sleeping on the floor, then,” he mutters, extinguishing the lamp on the desk. The room goes dark. Jisung feels Hyunjin sit, feel his way around, and lie down. “I can’t believe we’re doing this. But try and get some sleep.”

“Sleep well,” Jisung says, automatic. Hyunjin snorts, and rolls over. Now that they’ve stopped arguing over who will take the bed, questions spring up in Jisung’s head again. Hyunjin never answered anything about Woojin, or why they’re looking for him. He tries to silence the storm in his mind, and succeeds— he shuts his eyes and is too exhausted to even dream.

\---

Jisung wakes up first.

It’s dark, and he shoots up in blind panic, unsure of where he is. In the process, he hits something warm and nearly has a heart attack.

The lump of warmth groans, and then Jisung remembers that it’s Hyunjin. “What time is it?” Hyunjin says. Jisung can’t answer that.

Hyunjin shuffles around. He illuminates the lamp; the room is flooded with light. “My back is so sore…” Hyunjin mumbles. He rubs his eyes and stifles a yawn, not yet fully awake.

“You shouldn’t have slept on the floor,” Jisung says. Then he remembers that last night, he was distracted by the issue of the bedroll and didn’t get to ask his questions. He can’t let that happen this time. “Wait, so why did Seungmin give you a map last night? Where are we going?”

“It’s fairly straightforward. We’re going to try and find my friend, Woojin. Since we’re up, let’s leave now,” Hyunjin says. He grabs a bag from under his desk, then hesitates, just realizing something. “I’m… assuming. Unless your quest is something else, in which case, you’re on your own.”

“No, it’s not.” In fact, Jisung has no idea what his quest is, at all. Going to find Woojin is his idea of a start as well.

“Alright. Then let’s go, I’ve already packed. I just needed to borrow the map from Seungmin,” Hyunjin says. Jisung realizes that if he’d come even a day later, he wouldn’t have found Hyunjin, and shivers at that thought. But maybe this is proof that he’s going in the right direction, the miroh guiding his quest so that the timing is right. Or maybe Jisung’s just lucky. “... Thank you. For waking me up early. It makes things easier.”

Hyunjin sounds so sincere that it’s astounding. “You’re welcome? I guess?” Jisung tries.

Hyunjin snorts, and the moment is broken. “Alright. Come on.”

The two of them walk out of the dormitory. They don’t head toward the gate, like Jisung’s expecting. Instead, they head over to the back, where Hyunjin removes a loose stone from the fence, leaving an opening just big enough for them to crawl through. Jisung looks at him, surprised. “The sentry likes to ask,” Hyunjin says. “This way is easier.”

Jisung squeezes his knapsack through the hole before crawling his way out. Hyunjin does the same a moment later. To the east, the sun peeks up over the horizon, and Jisung wonders, with slight trepidation, what’s set for the day ahead.

\---

They walk in silence, Jisung making sure to keep his mouth shut until they’re far enough away from the academy. Their footsteps sync up on the road; the village they’re in wakes up around them. Hyunjin walks with a steely expression, one hand around the woven strap of his bag. The map is held tight in his other hand.

When the academy is well out of sight, Jisung opens his mouth. “Can I ask you questions now?”

“Yeah, but no promises on whether I’ll answer them,” Hyunjin says. His words are unkind, but his tone is civil, and he hasn’t left Jisung behind, which is the most important part. Jisung really doesn’t mind that Hyunjin isn’t nice, although he won’t admit that. “I’ve got questions to ask you, too.”

“We can take turns.”

“So the court teaches you manners.”

Jisung feels a flare of irritation, but he doesn’t show it. “So— who _is_ Woojin? Besides him being your friend.”

“He’s a lot of things to me.” It isn’t a sarcastic answer. “And he’s the magician’s apprentice. The magician usually doesn’t take on any students— Woojin’s her first apprentice in years.”

“So can he do magic? Have you seen it?”

“Yeah, I have, but I don’t understand it.” Hyunjin fidgets with his necklace. “The astronomer’s a little less picky with his students, but not by much. There’s only me and my friend Jungeun. If you want to know anything about the moon, ask her. She’ll know.”

Jisung currently has no pressing questions about the moon, but it’s nice the offer stands. “You’ve got a map… do you know where Woojin is?”

“Yes— I think.” Hyunjin sighs. “Alright, so the reason Woojin and I became friends in the first place is because the magician and the astronomer are both— no offense to them— terrible at showing up. I mean, they know their stuff, but they’re always disappearing. The magician is almost never there, so Woojin would show up to his lessons with nobody to teach him.”

“That’s… then why don’t they get a different teacher?”

“Because when she’s present, she’s really good. Taught Woojin all the basics. When she’s not present, he learns on his own. He picked up her habit of disappearing, too.” Hyunjin laughs, but it lacks any real humor. “So I’m used to that. But he’s been gone for over a week now, and I’m worried. Feels like something’s wrong, too.”

Hyunjin sighs, hoists his bag up a little higher. His expression is so sober that Jisung finds himself unable to say anything. “I disappear sometimes, too, to study the stars. But I always let my friends know. I told Jungeun I’d be gone— she’s covering for me.”

“Do you know where Woojin is?”  

“I do. You don’t need to be worried.”

 _You’re the one who’s worried, not me_ , Jisung thinks, but doesn’t say. “You and Seungmin said something about a forest last night.”

“Yeah. It’s where Woojin always goes. He told me the forest is powerful, and the heart of the forest has its own sort of magic. In a lot of places, the magic’s been muffled, and a lot of people have forgotten the connection. But Woojin can tap into it.” Jisung has never heard Hyunjin speak with such focus; he must respect Woojin a lot. Seeming to sense Jisung’s thoughts, Hyunjin adds, “I’m just repeating his words. I don’t know what he’s talking about half the time.”

“Your turf’s more the stars?”

“The physics and forces that guide them. I’m not interested in magic,” Hyunjin says. “What about you, Jisung? You interested in magic?”

Everything Hyunjin just said interests Jisung a lot, but magic isn’t a practical thing for him. “I’m a servant. Well, was. I worked for the baker, I only know flour and salt.” He looks down. Life was dull at the palace, but Jisung finds himself missing it. “My friend might know a little about magic, though. He works for the apothecary.”

“Oh, there’s a little magic involved in that, although it’s more subtle. What’s your friend like?”

“A lot kinder than you,” Jisung says. He doesn’t use the word _nice_ — Changbin isn’t nice. That’s why Jisung is okay with talking to Hyunjin, although Jisung prefers not to think about the genuine dislike Hyunjin seems to have for him. “He’s good at what he does. It was hard for us to talk to each other, though.”

“Why?”

Jisung almost doesn’t answer. But Hyunjin divulged more than he needed to, and so Jisung will to. He doesn’t want to think about how it was hard to talk to Changbin, because he’ll think about how it was impossible to talk to Chan. “I wake up early to bake, and he stays up taking inventory and preparing supplies. Our schedules were really mismatched. I’d sneak into the back room to talk to him.”

“Was he your lover?”

Jisung whips around, horrified. “ _Absolutely not_.”

Hyunjin smirks. “Alright then.”

Jisung scoffs and crosses his arms, looking away. “Both of us, we worked hard,” he says.

Hyunjin looks at him, confused at the sudden comment. “Okay?”

 _Because you seem to hate me because I’m from the court. You seem to think that I don’t have any good qualities because of it_. “I’m just saying,” Jisung mutters. “How long to the forest?”

Hyunjin consults the map. “Not too long. It’s not the walk _to_ the forest that’s the hard part.” He folds the paper. “Any more questions?”

He says it with such condescension and animosity that Jisung’s spurred to respond in kind. “No,” he says curtly, then keeps his mouth shut. Even though Jisung loves to talk to others, suffocating silence seems preferable to engaging in another verbal battle. The two of them continue to walk. Sunlight heats up Jisung’s hair, the back of his neck. Neither of them say anything.

\---

The outline of the forest is visible a kilometer away. When Jisung gets closer, he thinks he can see why a magician’s apprentice would spend time here. Maybe it’s just him, but the forest seems to radiate magic. Trees rise up, branches intertwining; the ground is covered in leaf litter and a thousand hardy species of plants competing for sunlight. The question is how to enter. The foliage is so thick that Jisung can only see a foot in.

“We’re going to walk in?” Jisung asks, because he can’t _not_ ask.

“What, you can’t see the trail? Guess being _soulmates_ doesn’t solve all our problems, then.” Jisung clenches his teeth, willing himself to stay calm. “No, but really. You can’t see the trail?”

Jisung stares at him, unimpressed. “There’s no trail.”

“I’m not messing with you, there is,” Hyunjin says. He holds up his wrist, folding up the sleeve of his tunic, to show a silver band. “Woojin gave this to me, said it’d keep me safe. But I’m also touched with his magic, now. I see the trail.”

“Well, that’s nice, because I can’t,” Jisung says.

They both seem to realize the truth at the same time: that Hyunjin could easily walk into the forest without Jisung, leaving the other behind. But Hyunjin keeps still. “Maybe you could try touching the bracelet?” he says, and hesitantly holds his wrist out. “Transfer the magic…”

Jisung does so, but in his anxiety, his fingers hit the back of Hyunjin’s hand instead of the bracelet. To his astonishment, a trail flashes into view. As soon as he removes his hand, though, the trail vanishes. Jisung narrows his eyes, reaches out to touch Hyunjin’s hand again; the trail reappears. Hyunjin looks at him, puzzled, and Jisung comes to a depressing conclusion.

“So I can, uh, see it,” he says. “But only when I’m in contact with you.”

A pause. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Hyunjin says. A stark terror washes over Jisung; this is too inconvenient— Hyunjin is going to leave him behind— Hyunjin holds out his hand. “Don’t tell me you’re a romantic. It’s just handholding.”

That hits a sore spot— Jisung _is_ a romantic, and the thought of holding Chan’s hand is one that’s kept him up at night. But Jisung is relieved that Hyunjin is so nonchalant about it. He quickly slips his hand into the other’s. Their fingers fit together. Hyunjin might not be easy to talk to, but at least holding his hand is.

Jisung doesn’t see Hyunjin’s cheeks heat up— doesn’t come to the conclusion that perhaps the term _romantic_ applies to them both.

Now that they’re in contact, the trail holds firm. “Let’s go,” Hyunjin says.

They walk. Jisung looks around. The forest is ethereal, light filtering through the dense canopy, moss climbing up trunks, toadstools sprouting up from the ground. When he chances a glance over his shoulder, he’s confused. He sees that they’ve made a fairly deep dent inside, but they’ve only been walking for a minute.

“Woojin said time warps here,” Hyunjin says, sensing his thoughts. “It’ll only take an hour to get to the heart of the forest, but by the time we leave, a few days will have passed.”

“Huh. Magic is strange.”

As they continue to walk, the light dims. The air seems to condense, so thick with magic it’s almost tangible. Jisung wonders if they’re near the heart of the forest. He keeps to the trail, trying not to step on spindly roots that sprout into the path. He looks at the flowers, the berries that grow on— wait.

He halts, and Hyunjin stops with him. “What?”

Jisung doesn’t answer, dragging the other over to a bush. Hyunjin tries to pull him back. “Don’t just randomly touch stuff.”

Jisung ignores this suggestion. He frowns, focusing on a berry, and reaches over to touch it. His brows knit— it isn’t even a fruit, but rather, a bright red stone, like the kind he’s seen on jewelry the nobles wear.

“Don’t ask, we don’t know the rules here,” Hyunjin says, but he’s caught onto what Jisung is looking at, and seems unnerved as well. “Come on, I think we’re close to the heart of the forest.”

The trail widens out into a large circular clearing, and Jisung experimentally lets go of Hyunjin’s hand; the clearing holds, although the path behind him closes. His eyes widen as he takes in the setting. Instead of leaves, palm-sized emeralds grow from the branches; instead of mosses, threads of gold traverse the tree trunks. Under his feet, the ground is littered with silvers. If he isn’t mistaken, the clearing is full of precious metals and gems, most of which he doesn’t even know the names of.

“What—”

“Something’s wrong,” Hyunjin says, eyes narrowed. He takes Jisung’s hand again on instinct and pulls him close to his side. “This isn’t natural. Don’t. Touch. Anything.”

“How do you know?”

Jisung’s genuinely confused. He’s of mind to be delighted, and assumes that Hyunjin would be delighted, too, to find an entire treasure trove. Instead, Hyunjin’s expression is troubled. “Nothing in the world comes without a price,” he says.  

“Is this the heart of the forest?” Jisung asks. “Isn’t this where your friend’s supposed to be?”

“I don’t know what the heart of the forest looks like, but I guess this might be it.” Hyunjin’s fingers go slack, his face falls. There’s nobody besides the two of them, from what Jisung can see. Wherever Woojin is, he doesn’t seem to be here. “We can… look.”

There’s no point in looking, unless Woojin’s playing a game of hide-and-seek, but Jisung obliges. He walks toward the pond in the center of the clearing, and he can’t help but gasp at the diamonds that litter the shore, surrounding the pond like a crust; underneath the surface, there seem to be diamonds as well.

Jisung momentarily forgets Woojin for the time being to wonder about the diamonds. When he was younger, he lived in one of the mining districts, and diamond was the most coveted material in Ninth. Apparently, it could do amazing things: provide people with light, heat up homes in the winter, even power these machines that Jisung’s heard of but has never seen, that can travel kilometers on their own.

The Chronosens are here for the diamonds. Why haven’t they come here yet?

Jisung walks around the pond. The surface glistens, a perfect circular mirror. When Jisung gets to the other side and peers in, he staggers back and falls, shouting something incoherent.

“What?” Hyunjin says, sprinting over. “What did you see?”

“I— there’s— in the pond,” Jisung says. He gets up, walks over, and looks into the pond again. The reflection doesn’t change, but it isn’t him. The person looking back at him is handsome, with a strong jaw and kind eyes. He wears a tunic like Hyunjin’s.

“Woojin?” Hyunjin says, lost. “You…”

There’s no response from within the pond. Woojin isn’t here. But his reflection is. Jisung kneels down, pressing his hand into the surface of the water. Woojin’s reflection ripples, then stabilizes. Hyunjin, too shocked, doesn’t say anything.

There’s a ring on Woojin’s finger, and once Jisung catches sight of it, he’s magnetized, and touches it, too. But instead of his hand hitting water, it hits metal, and he draws the ring out of the pond. There’s a flash of light; the ring clamps around his finger.

Hyunjin’s shaken out of his stupor. “What the hell? What—”

Jisung frantically tries to pull the ring off, but it stays, a stubborn band of gold around his skin, another strane accessory to pair with the silver key on his hand. “I can’t get it off!”

“I told you not to touch anything,” Hyunjin says, voice weary.

He looks at Jisung’s hand, then back down to Woojin’s reflection, and speaks to the water. “I… where are you?” Hyunjin whispers. His shoulders slump, nothing like the cocky stanger Jisung had first met in his dreams.

He turns, looks to Jisung, hard. “Woojin’s a magician. But magic’s not my turf. I’m not equipped to find him,” Hyunjin says.

Jisung swallows.

“I know he isn’t dead, since his bracelet still works for me,” Hyunjin murmurs, twisting the circlet around his wrist. “I just… come on. Let’s leave. Time works differently here, and I don’t want to go back to town and find out that over a week has passed.” He holds out his hand.

Jisung looks past the clearing, and finds that he can see the trail now. He remembers what Hyunjin had said, about being touched with magic. Jisung supposes that he’s touched by magic now, too, with the ring. But it seems rude to to refuse Hyunjin’s gesture, so Jisung fits their hands together, and they begin to walk.

Hyunjin doesn’t speak on the way back. His shoulders are hunched, his face ashy. He doesn’t cry, but he seems to be on the verge of tears. Jisung wants to say something in comfort, but finds himself with nothing. The two of them have only argued so far. But Jisung isn’t glad for Hyunjin’s sadness.

\---

They arrive back after the sun has set. “I can’t tell how many days have passed, maybe three or four,” Hyunjin says, peering up at the sky. “Let’s go. Be careful, only walk when I walk. Nobody is supposed to see you.”

The two of them enter the Seungjeon Academy the same way they entered, through the hole in the fence. Hyunjin pushes the rock back in place, and Jisung follows Hyunjin into the dormitories to Hyunjin’s room; fortunately, they don’t run into anyone. Hyunjin enters and illuminates the lamp, then sets his stuff down and sits heavily on the floor. Jisung does the same, the straps of his knapsack unsticking themselves from his shoulders.

He takes out another piece of bread, which is stale but not too stale, and a small bit of cheese. “You’re not gonna eat anything?” he asks, when he sees that Hyunjin is just staring off into space. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“I eat in the mess hall with all the other students, I’ll get my food tomorrow morning.”

Jisung breaks off a piece of bread and holds it out. Hyunjin stares at him for a long time, then shakes his head and takes it, whispering a _thanks_ so soft that Jisung sees it more than hears it.

“You stick out too much with that outfit, and I don’t think you brought a change of clothes,” Hyunjin says. “Wear one of my spare uniforms. It should fit you, although it might be a little big.”

Jisung double-takes. “No, it’s fine—”

“I don’t like to be in debt,” Hyunjin says, short.

“It’s just a piece of bread.”

Hyunjin’s argument ends up stronger, because Jisung really didn’t bring a change of clothes, and it would be nice to look like a student here. Jisung lost his sense of shame a few years ago, so he strips and changes in the room; Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, but politely looks away. Wearing it, Jisung wonders what it would be like to actually be a student here. He wonders if he and Hyunjin would have got along if they met in that circumstance.

“We should sleep,” Hyunjin says. “Let’s just both take the bedroll.”

“I slept on the floor and I was fine—”

“I’m really not in the mood for arguing with you right now,” Hyunjin says, tired and sad, and Jisung, remembering Hyunjin’s expression back in the heart of the forest, complies. Jisung climbs onto the tiny bedroll, and Hyunjin extinguishes the light and feels his way around until Jisung feels a warm weight settle next to him.

Jisung closes his eyes, and feels himself fall into a state of being half-awake, half-asleep. He thinks he can hear Hyunjin whispering to himself next to him. “You know he’s not dead, it’s fine. And Woojin good at magic. I have to believe in him. It’s fine, it’s fine…”

Jisung sleeps so he doesn’t have to hear the heartbreak in Hyunjin’s voice.

\---

He wakes up in a dream. It’s the Seungjeon Academy, but he’s in a hallway, standing in front of a door. When he opens it, he startles.

There are two people in it. One of them is Hyunjin, and the other is the boy who was reflected in the lake, Woojin. Both of them look slightly younger. They’re sitting side by side, and Hyunjin’s fidgeting with his hands. “Sorry,” Jisung says instinctively, since he interrupted, but the two of them don’t seem to hear him. Jisung frowns and walks closer, then hits an invisible wall.

Huh. He’ll see how this plays it.

One thing Jisung notices is that they’re in another room, presumably Woojin’s. It’s like Hyunjin’s, but it’s double the size, and there are two bedrolls. The other thing he notices is that the blue pendant around Hyunjin’s neck isn’t there.

“I have something to tell you,” Hyunjin says, voice nervous. “But you have to promise that it won’t change anything. You’ll still be my friend.”

“Yeah, of course,” Woojin says. His voice is warm, sincere.

“I— I’m in love with you.”

Jisung’s eyes rounden; his jaw drops. A bit afterward, he’ll realize this probably isn’t something Hyunjin wants him to see, but for the time being, his feet don’t move. He’s too absorbed in the outcome. Hyunjin looks so small, so fragile.

Woojin’s face softens, falls.

“I’m sorry,” he says, gentle. “I don’t feel the same.”

Hyunjin’s expression closes up instantly. “Yeah, I figured,” he mutters, crossing his arms. “Just wanted to tell you. It’s fine.”

“I… Hyunjin. I’m not that person for you, someone else is,” Woojin says. Hyunjin stares hard at the ground. “Hey, look at me. Let me give you a gift. I just learned this spell a few days ago.”

It seems like Hyunjin will refuse to look at him, but eventually, Hyunjin lifts his gaze. Woojin turns his palm up, holding it close to Hyunjin’s chest, and whispers an incantation. A small blue sphere appears in Woojin’s palm, a cloud of air at first, but then solidifies into a blue stone.

“This is your heart,” Woojin says. “When you find the right person, give it to them.”

Hyunjin stares at the blue stone. “My heart’s awfully pretty for somebody with such a nasty disposition,” he says, trying to make light of it, but Jisung can see the heartbreak in his eyes, manifested in the crack in the stone.

“You’re not nearly as terrible as you like to pretend to be,” Woojin says wryly, and Hyunjin takes the blue stone from his hand.

Behind Jisung, the door bursts open, and Jisung whirls around to find another Hyunjin, who takes in the whole situation with a resigned expression, then yanks Jisung out of the room and slams the door shut behind them. “Please tell me that memory wasn’t what I thought it was.”

Jisung’s expression must give it all away.

“I can’t believe you just… watched me get rejected,” Hyunjin says, raking his hand through his hair. “Yeah. Sometimes in my dreams, I see my past self in third person. You ever have those kind of dreams? Well, if you haven’t before, now you have.”

Hyunjin’s face is crimson in embarrassment, and he turns and walks away. Jisung feels terrible; he doesn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry,” is all Jisung can manage.

Surprisingly, it succeeds in stopping Hyunjin in his tracks, who sighs, stops, and turns back around. “This was around… two years ago,” Hyunjin says. “I’ve stopped liking him since. Even got a dumb blue stone to prove it— you can barely see the crack anymore.”  

“I…” Jisung takes a good look at the pendant, or Hyunjin’s heart, for the first time. It really is pretty, dark blue, shot through with silver like stars. Embarrassment radiates off of Hyunjin in waves. Jisung blurts out, “I mean, I’m in love with someone. But he doesn’t love me back.”

And just like that, the embarrassment dissipates, replaced with curiosity. “Oh? Who is it?”

Jisung regrets opening his mouth, but his lips seem to continue moving on their own. “He’s the king.”

A storm passes over Hyunjin’s face. “You can’t be in love with the king,” he says, disbelieving. “You’re a servant. You don’t even know the king.”

It seems like Chan will always be a topic of conflict, because Jisung immediately scrambles to defend himself. “We were friends, back when we younger,” he says. It sounds so weak, put like that, but he shouldn’t have to explain himself to Hyunjin in the first place. “He’s a good person.”

“He’s the king,” Hyunjin mocks. “You’re _in love_. That’s just sad.”

Jisung feels a wave of anger roll over him like the tides. “At least I haven’t gotten rejected _yet_ ,” he snaps. “What’s your problem, anyway? You don’t even know anyone in the court.”

“I just can’t believe how stupid that is. In what universe would that work out?”

Jisung’s about to answer that question, either with some sort of mockery or a simple left hook, but a ringing sounds off in the distance, and the setting around them swirls before dissolving into darkness.

\---

It seems that Jisung’s body didn’t get the memo that he wanted nothing to do with Hyunjin, because when he awakens he finds his head curled into the other’s chest, arm slung over Hyunjin’s waist. Jisung immediately scrambles away, opening his mouth to continue their argument, but Hyunjin cuts him off.

“That isn’t the normal bell,” he says, voice agitated. “Stay here, alright, I’m gonna go see what’s up.”

Hyunjin stands up, and light floods through the crack in the door as hd walks through it. Jisung blinks, bleary, and pulls himself upright, curling his arms around his legs.

Hyunjin comes back into the room, illuminating the lamp. “I got the long story short, the Academy’s been sealed off,” he says. “Apparently, there’s some strange disease that’s spreading in the kingdom. There’s a guard at the entrance of the student dormitories to check that we don’t have any symptoms.”

Interesting, but, “Shouldn’t be any problem for you.” Jisung’s tone is bitter. He hasn’t forgiven Hyunjin for his comments yet. Hyunjin is okay as long as they’re not talking about Chan, but when they are, Jisung wants to murder him.

“Yeah, I’ll just go to class as usual,” Hyunjin says, distracted, oblivious to Jisung’s anger.  “I guess you can stay in my room for the day, then…?”

It’s an uncomfortable statement. It doesn’t take a large leap of logic to realize that if Jisung has to stay in Hyunjin’s room for one day, he might have to stay in it for many days. Jisung looks at the key and ring, willing them to give him an answer. There has to be a next step in the quest, right? He can’t just stay in Hyunjin’s room forever— even if he somehow manages to find an infinite food source, he’d die of boredom.

Well, Jisung supposes, he’ll have time to sit on that thought, since he’ll be in this room all day with nothing to do. He opens his mouth to assent, but then there’s a rapid knocking on the door, and Hyunjin opens it, surprised.

“Seungmin?” Hyunjin says.

“You’re back,” Seungmin says, voice panicked. “Okay, just in time, because I didn’t know who else to turn to, the dormitory is sealed off and…”  

“Slow down,” Hyunjin says, cutting him off. “Yeah, I know the dormitory are sealed off, I heard there’s a strange disease going around that they’re checking symptoms for?”

Silence.

Seungmin chokes out, “Yeah, about that disease.”

“Seungmin?” Hyunjin whispers.

“I’m pretty sure I have it.” Jisung can hear Seungmin breathe, labored and erratic, struggling to stay calm. “And I don’t want to be here because what if I give it to you, but I don’t want to get sent home, either. Hyunjin, I—”

“Seungmin, calm down,” Hyunjin says, but the sharp note to his voice isn’t doing wonders for relaxation. “You’re sick? What?”

“Last night, while— you were away. Look.” Seungmin walks over to the lamp, and pulls up his sleeve to show Hyunjin’s his arm— Jisung can’t tell what’s going on, but Hyunjin draws in a sharp breath. “There’s a patch on my leg, too… what is this? What’s going on?”

“Okay. Okay,” Hyunjin says. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll make you don’t get sent home.”

“But it might be contagious. I don’t know what’s happening.”

Jisung, unable to hold in his curiosity, walks over to take a look. Seungmin’s arm looks normal from a distance, but once Jisung really looks at it, he realizes— his arm seems to be turning to earth: skin to dirt, veins to roots.

“I don’t care if it’s contagious, if there’s a cure we’ll find it with you,” Hyunjin says.

That probably isn’t the safest statement to make, but it seems to calm Seungmin down. Jisung actually double-takes at how quickly Seungmin pulls himself together, expression focusing in the span of a second.

“There’s a guard at the door of the student dormitories to check us all before going to class. I obviously won’t make it past them, so I can’t go to class,” Seungmin says.

Hyunjin turns to Jisung. “Hey,” he says. “Don’t you know an apothecary?”

Jisung’s eyes widen. Yes. Changbin likes to downplay himself, but he’s extremely knowledgeable on diseases, poisons, and their cures… but, there are several problems with this. For one, it’s still a long shot. For two, “I exited the court,” Jisung says. “There’s a wall, I can’t go back in.”

“That isn’t a problem,” Hyunjin says. “I’m good at sneaking in and out of places, and Seungmin’s even better. We just have to get him out of Seungjeon.”

At this, Hyunjin’s voice peters off, and he and Seungmin look at each other; a non-verbal exchange seems to take place, one Jisung can’t grasp. “Hyunjin, you have to go to class, anyway, you missed a few days,” Seungmin says. “I’ll be fine.”

Hyunjin’s jaw clenches, about to protest, but, “Alright then,” he mutters, sighing, then looks down at the ground. “Jisung, uh— will you go with him?”

It’s the same face Hyunjin made when Jisung gave him the piece of bread, times five in intensity, and Jisung realizes that Hyunjin thinks that this is a big favor he is asking. But Jisung doesn’t mind. He prefers to help, and he also doesn’t want to stay in Hyunjin’s room all day. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you so much,” Seungmin says. “I owe you my life. Literally.”

Jisung shrugs. “Don’t thank me yet.”

“You two should get going, then,” Hyunjin says. He rummages around and hands Seungmin a rope, along with his knapsack. “It’s a long walk to court. There’s some water in there. No food, though, I’m sorry.”

“You go to class, don’t fail your lessons,” Seungmin says. “No food is okay. I’ve gone without food for a few days before.”

Jisung grabs his knapsack, thinking to himself he’ll share with Seungmin if need be. Hopefully, Seungmin isn’t as bad as accepting help as Hyunjin is. They walk out of Hyunjin’s room, and Jisung follows Seungmin up a set of spiral staircases. They pass a few people, and Jisung is grateful that he’s wearing Hyunjin’s outfit— nobody takes a second glance.

Up on the fourth floor, there is indeed a large window. Seungmin looks around, waiting until he’s satisfied that nobody is there, before he lets the rope over the windowsill. “You first.”

“Wait, what about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” That isn’t the most reassuring statement, but Jisung doesn’t see any other option— he walks over to the window and looks— it’s a fair way down. He grips the rope tight and swings his leg over to the side. Seungmin is strong— the rope doesn’t give the slightest, and Jisung walks his way down the wall until his feet touch the ground.

Once Jisung’s down, Seungmin draws the rope up. Then, to Jisung’s astonishment, he climbs down the wall with ease, dropping down the last five feet. “I’ve never liked to use doors,” Seungmin says, as explanation.

“Alright.” Still insane.

They’re at the back of the dormitories. “Let’s hurry,” Seungmin says, and Jisung follows him over to the ‘entrance’ that Hyunjin had used the other day, and they duck out of the fence and slip out toward the town.

\---

Away from the academy, Jisung looks at Seungmin. Hyunjin and Seungmin must be close, but so far, Jisung hasn’t gotten to talk to Seungmin by himself.

“So you’ll really take me to the court apothecary?” Seungmin asks.

“I mean, the guy I know isn’t the official court apothecary. Changbin works in the back room and does the dirty work, and he’s got the title of servant, which is why I’m able to be friends with him at all. But he likes to learn, so I think he knows as much about the craft as the official one. You’re in good hands, don’t worry.”

“No, I’m not worrying. I’m just grateful.”  

“The trouble is getting there. I have a map, but I don’t have a very good sense of direction… I think I found the Academy a lot by accident.”

Seungmin laughs. “That’s not a problem. I know my way to the court.”

Jisung tilts his head, surprised. “Really?”

“I’m one of the cartographer’s apprentices,” Seungmin says. “I’m familiar with the entire kingdom. A place as famous as the court? I know it like the back of my hand.” He looks down at his hand. “Not sure if I’ll be able to say that phrase anymore, if my hand starts to look like my arm…”

He trails off, and Jisung chews his lips.

“Does it hurt?” Jisung asks. “Your arm?”

“No, it doesn’t. It feels the exact same, which is the almost the most terrifying part,” Seungmin says, eerily calm. “I should be able to feel something like this, right? Right now, there’s a patch on my arm, and on my leg. But I almost forget it unless I’m looking straight at it.”

Jisung dips his head, unsure of what to say in response.

“But let’s not talk about that,” Seungmin says. Jisung can’t help but feel a little relieved. “What brings you here, anyway? Not to be rude, but this whole thing’s been a little strange, even for Hyunjin. You just showed up out of the blue.”

“I got a quest from the miroh,” Jisung says. “And Hyunjin and I were sharing dreams. I thought he might be a good place to start.”

“He told me about the dream thing. He was really worried because he thought he was going insane. He was also worried that you two were soulmates or something. I personally think it isn’t so bad if you guys are soulmates.”

“We’re not…” Jisung gives up. “Really. He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Seungmin says immediately. “If he did, he wouldn’t let you near me. Hyunjin’s nice, but he doesn’t know how to show it. On the other hand, I’m good at pretending I’m nice, but I’m not.”

“Really? You’re not?”

“I’m only like this because I don’t know you very well,” Seungmin says. “Give it a month. I’d be _very_ different.”

Jisung laughs. “Noted.”

“But I swear he doesn’t hate you.” Seungmin adjusts the straps of his borrowed bag. “Let’s not talk now. Sorry. Talking tires me out.”

Jisung shuts his mouth accordingly. He finds that silence with Seungmin isn’t terrible— there’s something peaceful about the other boy, no trace of the panic from the morning. Jisung wonders if he will know Seungmin after a month, if his quest will have been completed by then. Or if the disease… no. Jisung won’t think about that.

What _is_ the quest, anyway? Does it have to do with Woojin? Does it have to do with Seungmin’s sickness? He wishes the miroh gave him more information than just a key.

\---

Jisung finds that Seungmin likes to hum, although Jisung isn’t certain Seungmin is aware he’s doing it. Seungmin has a nice voice. Pleasant to listen to.

With Seungmin’s internal map, they make it to the court by the end of day. Jisung’s tired, his steps fatigued. They ate Jisung’s bread for lunch and shared Seungmin’s water, but the energy from the food has worn off.

“Alright,” Jisung says, once they’ve reached the imposing wall that surrounds the court, much higher than the fence around the Seungjeon Academy. He didn’t imagine he’d be back here so soon. “I don’t know how to get in.”

“That’s okay. The entrance should be somewhere right around here.” Seungmin swerves in direction, and Jisung, confused, follows. “A long time ago, when the court was built, the architects designed a secret exit. For us, it should serve as an entrance.”

“You really don’t like using doors, do you,” Jisung says, and Seungmin laughs.

The two of them end up over at a large tree, and Jisung watches, entranced, as Seungmin lifts up a trapdoor, built into the tree’s roots. It creaks— Jisung doubts it’s been used in a long time, or at all— and they descend into it. Seungmin closes the trapdoor over their heads, shutting them in darkness.

It’s unpleasant— there’s a strange odor that pervades the tunnel, and when Jisung feels the wall, his fingers hit something slimy.

“Just keep walking,” Seungmin says, voice noticeably strained.

The tunnel seems to go on forever, but eventually, the ground slopes up, and Jisung makes a noise of pain as his head hits a ceiling. “I think we’re there, push up with your hand,” Seungmin says. “But slowly.”

Jisung does so. Air streams in through the crack, and he carefully looks out. Where are they? And then he realizes, and lets go of the exit. “What?” Seungmin whispers. “Did you see someone?”

“No, I just, I recognize this place,” Jisung hisses. “I delivered bread here every morning, back when I worked as a servant. We’re at the back of the palace.” There was a trapdoor under his feet, and he never realized.

“Oh, that’s such a strange coincidence. Did you see anyone, though?”

“... No.”

“Then let’s go.”

Jisung pushes the trapdoor up, and the two of them climb out of the tunnel— it’s a blessing to breathe fresh air. Jisung takes in the familiar surroundings, even though he usually sees it by day and not night, and he knows where to go. “Follow me.”

They weave around the buildings, careful and tense. Jisung lets out a sigh of relief once he comes across the door he knows so well, although his heart fills with trepidation immediately after. Will Changbin be glad to see him? Is Changbin even there?

He steels himself and opens the door.

“Who’s there?” Changbin says, jerking his head up, and then Changbin’s eyes are widening in recognition and Jisung’s being yanked into a hug. “You’re back! Is your quest over already? The baker hasn’t replaced you yet, you can—”

“Changbin, I can’t breathe,” Jisung wheezes, and Changbin lets go of him, noticing Seungmin for the first time, raising an eyebrow in question. “No, the quest isn’t over yet, I don’t even know what the quest is. I just, I need your help.”

“Yeah, of course,” Changbin says. He says to Seungmin, “Who are you? How’d you get in here?”

“My name is Seungmin, apprentice of the cartographer. I came here through a tunnel.”

Changbin asks Jisung, “Is he the guy from your dreams?”

“No, that’s someone else, hard to explain. But I know Seungmin, don’t worry.”

Changbin gives Jisung a look that says, _you better know what you’re doing,_ and then he ushers the two of them in, closing the door behind him. Seungmin sneezes.

“Alright, what do you need help with?” Changbin asks.

“It isn’t me, it’s Seungmin,” Jisung says. “He’s sick. I was wondering if you knew something about it, or if you have a cure.” Next to him, Seungmin silently rolls up his sleeve, showing his arm.

Changbin walks over to examine it. “I’ve recently heard of this, a sickness that turns your skin to dirt and your bones to rock,” he says, eyes sober. “Word travels fast. But there’s no cure yet. I’m sorry.”

Seungmin rolls his sleeve back down. “That’s fine,” he says, although he’s clearly disappointed. “Do you know if it’s contagious or not?”

Changbin sighs. “Okay. So far, we’ve heard of a few different cases of this around Ninth, but they’ve all occurred separately. This is a magical illness, which don’t spread through proximity or touch, so you aren’t contagious. But I’m worried because of how random this disease seems. Magic will attack wherever it wants. I can’t predict it.”

“As long as it’s not contagious, it’s good,” Seungmin says.

“From what I know of magical illnesses, they’re lethal once they reach the heart,” Changbin says. “But this is so new that I don’t know how long it will take for that to happen, or if it even will happen.”

“Do you have anything that will make it look like I’m not sick, though, even if I am?” Seungmin says. “Because I feel fine. But I need to look fine, too.”

Changbin tilts his head. “I have an elixir that works something like that,” he says. “You hold the illusion inside of your head that your skin is fine, and it will look to be fine, even if it isn’t. Why do you want it?”

Seungmin looks down. “The guards at the academy I attend are checking for the sickness. If they find out, I might get sent home. I don’t want to get sent home.”

“I see,” Changbin says. “I’ll make it, then. For the time being, you two should get some rest.”

\---

Jisung falls asleep in a dream and meets Hyunjin. There’s a strange quality to this dream, like it’s about to disappear any second. Jisung is in Hyunjin’s room, but the bedroll under his fingers doesn’t feel quite real, and Hyunjin is pale, washed out, as if Jisung could put a hand through him if he wanted to.

“I think, out of the two of us, you’re definitely worse at dreaming,” Jisung comments.

Hyunjin rakes a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I think this is because I’m not fully asleep right now,” he says, voice like it’s underwater. “I can’t really sleep when, you know, one of my close friends is missing and my best friend is turning into stone.”

That shuts Jisung up.

“Speaking of which, you two have visited the apothecary by now?” Hyunjin asks, and Jisung nods in assent. “... I’m guessing by the expression on your face that there’s no cure.”

“Yeah. My friend doesn’t know what’s going on, he hasn’t seen this illness before,” Jisung says. “The best he could do was tell us it isn’t contagious. I’m… really sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” The room violently shakes. Hyunjin sits, folding into himself, hiding his face in between his knees, like he’s in great pain. “Thank you for trying. I… should apologize to you. I have been rude since we’ve met, and you don’t deserve that. Many of my comments were extremely out of line.”

Hyunjin looks at the wall. “This isn’t an excuse, but it’s hard for me to be kind. I’m not good at it.”

Jisung thinks of their argument in their previous dream, easily forgivable in light of current circumstances. “It’s fine. Let’s not worry about that now.”

“Okay.” A ghost of a smile crosses Hyunjin’s mouth. “Listen, I’ve been thinking, there might be a tie between Woojin’s disappearance and Seungmin’s illness. That, or bad luck is just raining upon the kingdom.”

“They’re your friends, you would know better than me.”

“I’ve just, I’ve been thinking about the ring. The one that we got from the forest. I remember learning something about a ring, but I can’t remember what it is, or if it’s important.”

The room shakes again, then fades for good this time, whatever connection between them losing hold. Jisung wakes up, Changbin shaking his shoulder, and blearily thinks that he feels more tired than he did before sleeping.

“Elixir’s done,” Changbin says. “Let’s test it out.”

Jisung peels himself off of the ground. Seungmin rubs his eyes from where he’s curled up against the wall and stands, taking the small bottle that Changbin hands him. “One mouthful will tide you over for six hours,” Changbin instructs, and Seungmin unstops the bottle and drinks. “Now think about your arm looking normal.”

Seungmin does as told, then rolls up his sleeve. His eyes widen; the skin is now smooth, human. After a few seconds, it reverts back to dirt and root, and Seungmin rolls his sleeve down. “Thank you,” he tells Changbin, who looks pleased at the compliment before his expression becomes sober.

“Don’t thank me yet, it’s just an illusion. I’ll work to find a cure,” he says. He opens the door. Outside, it’s still dark. “The sun’s about to rise. You guys should leave, you’re not supposed to be here.”

“Yeah.” Jisung wraps his arms around Changbin. “I miss you and hope to see you soon.”

Changbin looks away, eyes suspiciously moist. “Me too. Good luck on your quest.” He coughs. “Both of you, take care of yourself.”

Seungmin and Jisung exit the back room and climb into the tunnel just as a sliver of orange appears on the horizons. When they climb out, Seungmin brushes dirt off of his tunic and looks contemplatively at the bottle in his hands.

They don’t talk as they head back. Jisung doesn’t think he’s ever felt so tired in his life, every step a struggle. It’s hard to look at Seungmin. The other looks exhausted as well, but more than that, there are worry lines all over his face, and his eyes are distant, contemplating an unknown future. Seungmin tugs at his sleeve, and Jisung has to look away. _From what I know of magical illnesses, they’re lethal once they reach the heart._

Will that happen? The thought is unbearable for Jisung; he can’t imagine what it’s like for Seungmin, who has started to hum again, some beautiful but sad melody.

\---

They reach the academy late at night; by this time, Jisung feels like he can’t take a step more. They crawl through the fence, and Seungmin looks up at the stone building, then grasps onto the wall before dropping down. “I’m too tired to climb up.”

There’s movement from the window, and Jisung cranes his neck to see a shadow that he instinctively knows is Hyunjin. “It’s Hyunjin,” Jisung hisses.

Relief spreads across Seungmin’s face. “Get the rope,” he says. Jisung retrieves the rope they used in the morning from his backpack, and Seungmin tosses it up, Hyunjin successfully taking hold of the other end.

“You first,” Seungmin says, and Jisung grasps onto the rope, pulling it taut, and somehow manages to make his way up, although he’s certain that part of that is Hyunjin straining on the other end. After Jisung’s through the window, he helps Hyunjin to pull Seungmin up. The three of them don’t speak until they’ve climbed down the stairs and made it into Hyunjin’s room.

“How’d you know we were back?” Seungmin asks.

“I don’t know, I could just feel it.” Hyunjin twists the pendant around his neck. “But Seungmin, are you okay?”

“Well, I’m tired, but I think that’s more to do with walking all day without much sleep than anything else,” Seungmin says. The nonchalance in his voice is impressive, yet painful to hear. “Good news is I’m not contagious, and the apothecary gave me something so I could fake that I’m not sick. That’s all I need.”

Hyunjin’s mouth twists. “No, that’s not all you need.”

“Seriously, let’s… not talk about me,” Seungmin begs. “Hyunjin, did you catch up on your lessons?”

“Really? You’re _really_ going to ask me about my lessons right now?” Hyunjin asks. Seungmin shrugs. “Fine, I did. And I made up some excuse about you being in my room because you ate something bad and are now really exhausted.”

“Good. Have you found out anything more about Woojin?”

“Honestly, I haven’t been able to focus much on any one thing…” Hyunjin says. “All I know is that he still isn’t back.”

Jisung thinks about Hyunjin’s theory, that what has happened to Woojin and Seungmin are related. They’re both concerned with magic, but Jisung doesn’t know anything about magic. The key on his hand, though, the ring— those are magic, too. Maybe the quest has to do with _all_ of this. At least, with Seungmin. Jisung can’t imagine a more definitive quest than saving somebody’s life. It seems right, but Jisung can’t be sure— he feels like he’s being batted around by the hands of fate, unable to control what happens next, and having to wait undefined amounts of time for more answers.

Seungmin says, “Have you asked Minho? Minho could have some answers.” A strange expression flashes over Hyunjin’s face, and Seungmin crosses his arms, angry. “Oh, come on, this is absolutely _not_ the time for your petty rivalries right now—”

“No, I _know_ it’s not, I’m just mad at myself that I didn’t do that sooner,” Hyunjin says. He looks around the room and sighs. “We can’t ask Minho anything until tomorrow, though. Maybe you should talk to him, you’re on better terms with him than I am.”

“Who’s Minho?” Jisung asks.

“One of the blacksmith’s apprentices,” Hyunjin says.

“And Woojin’s lover,” Seungmin adds.

There’s a strain after his words. Jisung doesn’t comment, and Hyunjin looks away.

“You should get some sleep,” Hyunjin finally says. “Both of you. You’ve been walking all day.”

Seungmin doesn’t need to be told twice— he backs into a corner and falls asleep like he did in the apothecary’s back room, curled up in a ball.

For Jisung, it’s harder. He closes his eyes, but is unable to truly relax. Hyunjin sighs, then walks over, sitting on the ground next to Jisung. “Tomorrow, I’ll have to go to my lessons during the day, so no one gets suspicious,” he says. “Stay in here until I get back.”

“Okay,” Jisung mumbles. Unconsciously, he puts his head on Hyunjin’s shoulder, and Hyunjin lets him.

\---

Jisung partially wakes up for the bell, then sleeps a little longer. By the time he wakes up for real, it’s midday, and Hyunjin and Seungmin are gone.

He eats a piece of bread (at this point, extremely stale), wondering what he should do for the time being— he doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. He finds himself looking at the stack of parchment on Hyunjin’s desk, and walks over.

For Hyunjin, the pieces of parchment are probably stray thoughts and scribblings, but Jisung is fascinated. He can’t read very well, so the letters look from a distance like art, with their loops and stems scrawled across the page. On several pieces of parchment are drawings of planets, diagrams of the sky, intricate mathematical equations, carefully written out. Jisung knows too much about Hyunjin to think of him as some kind of perfect scholar, but still, Jisung is in awe that Hyunjin can decode all this. Perhaps someday, Jisung will know even a fraction of this information.

A while later, the door opens, and Jisung steps away from the desk. Three people enter: Hyunjin, Seungmin, and a boy that Jisung doesn’t know, but is presumably Minho. He’s as good-looking as Hyunjin. A chain hangs from his neck, same as Hyunjin, except Minho ’s pendant is brown, with rivulets of gold.

“The room’s too small to fit all of us,” Hyunjin says. “Sorry about that. Let’s cram in.”

The four of them seat themselves in the best arrangement they can. Jisung can feel Minho looking at him curiously, not afraid of the situation he’s in, but not comfortable with it, either.

“So,” Minho says, neutral. “You called me here.”

Jisung wonders why Minho isn’t immediately asking about him, and then he realizes that this outfit really does make him look a student.

“Yeah. So I’ll just get to the point,” Hyunjin says. “I went to look for Woojin.”

“Really?” Minho says, expression surprised. “Did you find him?”

“Well, not really, or else he’d be here back,” Hyunjin says, and Minho’s eyes darken. “You could try looking for him.”

“Not all of us know how to sneak around like you and Seungmin,” Minho says, sharp.

“ _Hey_ ,” Seungmin says, and Hyunjin and Minho look down, guilty.

“Yeah,” Minho says, tone softer this time. “He’s been gone for awhile now. I’ve been trusting that he’ll be back. I mean, I know he isn’t dead, because of the necklace.”

“I know that too, or else the bracelet wouldn’t work for me,” Hyunjin says. “But it was just strange, because his outings usually don’t take so long. So I went to the forest to look for him. But all I could find was his reflection.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, you could see his reflection in the pond, but he wasn’t physically there.”

“But that isn’t possible,” Minho says, disbelieving. “I mean, you probably know science better than I do, but…”  

“No, he’s telling the truth,” Jisung finds himself saying. “I was there.”

Minho looks even _more_ confused now. “Wait, you were there?” he says. “I’m really sorry if this is rude, but who are you? I’m not sure we’ve met.”

“His name is Jisung, and it’s a very long story,” Hyunjin says. “Point is, Minho, do you know anything about where Woojin might be?”

“He was getting more secretive, before he disappeared,” Minho says, narrowing his eyes, and Hyunjin nods. “But a few weeks ago, he gave me a mold for a key and asked me to make it. Not just a key. A clé. I didn’t question it too much, because I don’t work with magic, but…”

A clé. Jisung looks down at the mark on his hand, bright silver. Hyunjin looks the same way. “That can’t be a coincidence,” Hyunjin says. “Minho, what did he need a clé for?”

“I’m not sure, probably something to do with his magic, I’ve made him other things before,” Minho says. “I know the clé is for entrance into the miroh, but I wasn’t sure why he’d want to enter it. I thought it was for his classes. I should have pushed more.”

Hyunjin looks into the distance, troubled. “I don’t know much of how his magic works, either,” he admits.

Seungmin speaks, a note of exasperation in his voice. “Am I the only one here who didn’t sleep through our lessons on the miroh?” he asks. “I mean, okay, I don’t know that much about magic, either. But let me go get my notes. I’ll be back.”

He rises, and leaves. Jisung pulls his sleeve over his hand, not sure if he wants to explain his quest to Minho, who looks wary of him. Hyunjin’s hand goes up to fidget with his necklace. It’s a relief when Seungmin returns.

“Okay,” Seungmin says, shutting the door and sitting down. “We all know that magic is sourced from the miroh, right? Most of us can’t tap into that magic, but Woojin can. But he usually doesn’t need to directly enter the miroh.”

“Maybe he needed more magic for a particular spell,” Minho says. “That’s why he goes into the forest, during times he needs to access more magic than he normally needs. I’m just guessing, though.”

“To go straight into the miroh, though, that’s just crazy,” Seungmin says, brow furrowed. “First of all, I’m not sure that it would even grant you more magic, and second of all, I mean, there’s a reason humans can’t go into it, it’s where the gods live and all that.”

“The gods,” Hyunjin says, eyes widening. “That’s it. Wait, but it doesn’t make any sense—”

“Not much you said has made sense so far, but I’m willing to hear it out,” Minho says.

“There are four gods, for the four elements. Water, air, earth, fire. The earth goddess has a ring that changes substances into other substances, that’s how the planet came to be. We know that. When I came upon the heart of the forest, there were precious metals and gems everywhere— I didn’t pick them up, because I didn’t feel they were natural, but I wasn’t sure. And in the water, Woojin’s reflection was wearing a ring.”

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Seungmin says. “So you’re saying is that Woojin stole the earth goddess’s ring, went to the forest, and then turned a bunch of regular stones to gold and diamonds.”

Jisung looks at his hand, where the ring is still stuck, and tucks it behind his back. He doesn’t completely understand all that was just said, but he gets the part about the earth goddess’s ring, and that puzzle pieces start to click in place. Does that mean he’s wearing…  

Hyunjin fumbles. “Well, that’s the theory. It _logically_ makes sense, but— Woojin— he’s never cared for material things… he only wants to use magic to help other people. I don’t… he wouldn’t do something like that.”

“But he would,” Minho mutters. “If he felt he was helping other people.”

Hyunjin gets this look, and Jisung knows Hyunjin well enough to recognize it as the look that means he is going to say something that might be later regrettable. “How would you know all this,” Hyunjin snaps, “and not have enough sense to stop him? You just made him an a clé, and didn’t think for a second—”

“At least I know,” Minho says, and Jisung admires the strength in his voice. “If what you’re saying is true, then he’s done something idiotic, but he’s had a good track record before.”

“It isn’t that I don’t trust him, it’s just that I don’t blindly go around believing—”

“—I’m _not saying_ I shouldn’t have been more careful,” Minho says, weary and final. “I want to find him as much as you do, you, goddammit.”

“Hey, can we get back to the part where Woojin maybe stole the ring?” Seungmin says, exasperated. “What’s done is done.”

“Sorry,” Minho says. Hyunjin crosses his arms, looking hard at the ground. “The point is, I know that not long ago, Woojin was talking to people in the diamond district. He was really worried— life at the mining camps is so harsh, and the quotas are going up, and…”

The diamond district. The words bring up memories that Jisung’s kept tucked away, and he forgets all exhaustion, all physical pain, in favor of a curiosity that burns through him like a wildfire.

 _Jeongin_.

Jisung cuts into the conversation: “How was he in contact with the diamond district?”

“Oh, shit, I remember something now,” Hyunjin says. “Last year, Woojin told me. About the memory stone he made. It allows him to physically access a place from his mind, as long as he’s visited before. He chose the diamond district, and offered to take me, too. I told him he was insane, I don’t have anything to go back to.”

“So he can visit the diamond district?” Jisung asks.

“Yes.”

This probably has nothing to do with the quest, and it’s a far-fetched dream, but a yearning strong and impossible to ignore takes over every nerve. Jisung looks at Minho, Hyunjin. “Do either of you know where this stone is?” he asks. “Or if it will work for me?”

Minho isn’t making eye contact with him, and Jisung realizes that he’s caught glimpse of the clé etched onto his hand. “Really, who are you?” Minho whispers.

Jisung sighs. “It’s hard to explain. But please, do you know anything about the stone—”

“Have you been to the diamond district before?” Hyunjin asks, and Jisung nods. “Then it should work for you, since you’ve accessed the place of the memory before. Why do you want to go so bad?”

Jisung picks at a thread on his tunic. “I— a friend.”

“It’s in Woojin’s room. And I can pick a lock,” Minho cuts in.

“I mean,” Hyunjin says, impressed. “If you ever want to sneak around with me and Seungmin, you’re completely welcome.”

“I’ll pick the lock with a condition. You’ll explain to me what’s going on.”

Jisung opens his mouth to start, but to his astonishment, Hyunjin beats him to it, even though Hyunjin has nothing riding on this. “Well, alright,” Hyunjin says. “So, awhile ago, I started having these dreams where Jisung wouldn’t stop showing up—”

\---

Minho  picks the lock with such ease that it’s concerning, and the door creaks open.

“I don’t understand the point of this, but if this is part of your quest, or if it might help find Woojin, then I don’t have to understand,” Minho says. “I’m not going to stay, I’m going to go look over information on the miroh with Seungmin. Good luck.”

He walks away, leaving Hyunjin and Jisung together in the room. Jisung recognizes this room as the one where Hyunjin got rejected, but wisely does not bring this up.

“Minho’s a good guy, isn’t he?” Hyunjin says, glancing at the door. “I guess we just start looking now. Unless you have a better solution than blind searching.”

Jisung shakes his head.

“Alright, then. Let’s start.” Hyunjin walks over to the desk, where there’s a thick stack of books. “Sorry, Woojin. We’ll try not to disturb your stuff too much.”

The problem is that Jisung has no idea what he’s supposed to be looking for. On a makeshift shelf, there’s a small bag, and he opens it to find a collection of bracelets and necklaces. It feels heavier than it should be, like magic is taking up extra weight. Is the memory stone attached to any one of these?

“So… why do you want to go to the diamond district so badly?” Hyunjin asks. “Is it part of your quest?”

Jisung picks up a bracelet to examine, and it heats up in his hand so he drops it. “I’m from the diamond district,” Jisung admits. “I… when I was ten, I came to the court to work as a servant. I’m lucky, I know. But before that, I used to have a best friend. His name’s Jeongin. My parents died of a sickness when I was too young to remember them, so I lived with him.”

“And you… want to look for him?”

“A lot of strange, impossible things have happened recently. It makes me bolder than I should be,” Jisung murmurs. “When I came to the court, I couldn’t contact the district or go back at all. If nothing else, I want to see where I came from.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything for a second, like he’s choosing his next words carefully.

“The diamond district is a dangerous place. I don’t… but Woojin’s just always been like that. A little too smart for his own good. Brave. Probably why I was in love with him for a few years.” There’s a tone of self-deprecation to his words, which Jisung wants to erase. Hyunjin adds, “I also lived in the diamond district. When Woojin and I met, I hung onto him because we were both from the same place.”

Jisung wants to ask, _do you have anybody you miss_? But he says nothing and continues to search. It seems every nook and cranny here is filled with spell books and magical items; hopelessness settles over him like a fine dust.

“I met you in a dream and hated you because you were from the court. That wasn’t right of me,” Hyunjin says. “But, many years ago. The diamond district wasn’t a great place, but it was okay. Then the king cut a deal with Chronos, and the raids and beatings started to happen. So many people I loved. Everyone I loved, honestly. For what? A few diamonds?”

“Do you—” Jisung’s voice is scratchy. “Do you still want to come with me, if you can, then?”

“Yes,” Hyunjin says. “I do. I tested into the Academy so many years ago. I should be able to face my past.”

Jisung isn’t the best with words, so he walks over and squeezes Hyunjin’s hand, pretending not to notice Hyunjin discreetly wipe away tears with his sleeve.

They search for another few minutes, not speaking. “This might be it,” Hyunjin says, and opens a drawstring bag. Inside is a perfectly round sphere, like an enlarged marble, the insides swirling with a foggy gray. “Hold onto me.”

Jisung does so. The room fades away, and he’s plunged into darkness.

\---

When Jisung opens his eyes, he’s standing on uneven ground.

He has only the barest recollection of the details of this place— he remembers the feeling, more than the physical aspects.

The diamond district, for its pretty name, isn’t pretty at all. A strong odor pervades the air, grayer than the air back in the academy. The earth under Jisung’s feet is more dirt and rock than soil; there is no green that he can see. From a nearby building, smoke belches out into the skies. They’re in a town, but it’s derelict, the ground strewn with debris. If Jisung squints, he can see where the ground slopes down into an enormous pit: the mine, origin of the diamond ore so highly prized.

The sky is beginning to darken. Sluggish human activity unfolds around them.

“We have to hide,” Hyunjin says, slipping the memory stone in his pocket. “We look too conspicuous in these uniforms, not doing anything.”

It’s true. The tunic that allowed Jisung camouflage back at the Seungjeon Academy makes him a direct target here. But where to go? He and Hyunjin duck down behind one of the homes.

“So, not to sound concerned or anything, but is there a game plan here?” Hyunjin whispers.

Unfortunately, Jisung doesn’t even know _where_ to begin looking. The dimming light helps to conceal them as they move in an aimless direction; they pass by an open shack that emanates the smell of overcooked food, a street vendor closing up.

After the third strange look they get, Jisung suggests, “Let’s head to the mine entrance.”

This is a bad idea on many levels, but if Jeongin is going to be anywhere, he’ll be there. Hyunjin doesn’t question it, and they head toward the mine entrance. On one side of the mine are barracks; on the other, storage buildings and processing plants. Jisung’s nails dig lines into his palms.

Once inside the mine, he begins to sweat in fear. He can see the open hole in the ground, where miners work around, resembling ants from the distance. Jisung is painfully aware that he is not supposed to be here. Next to him, Hyunjin is silent, tense.

“HEY!” somebody shouts.

Fuck.

“Who are you guys? What are you doing here?” a man asks, walking toward them. His tone isn’t aggressive, but it isn’t friendly by any means, either. “Especially with those clothes on.”

“Minjae, what’ve we got here?” somebody else yells, voice loud and raucous, and Jisung looks as a group of people emerge from the pit.

Minjae takes a look at the group, then Jisung and Hyunjin. “I’d suggest you scram.”

Next to him, Jisung feels Hyunjin begin to tremble, a leaf in the wind.

“Ah, no, you telling the newcomers to leave?” somebody in the group says. “That’s no fun, let me handle them.” He walks closer, footsteps and expression menacing, clothes covered in grime. “You aren’t from around here. What business do you have?”

Jisung is so terrified he physically can’t answer.

“That face, you’re no Chronosen, but those clothes… you’re from the inner ring of Ninth, maybe? One of those scholars. Maybe even from the court.” The man tilts his head, then narrows his eyes. “Then what the _fuck_ are you doing here? You here to look at the damage that you haven’t helped to solve at all? We can show you some damage, too.”  

“Hey, hey, what’s in his pocket?” somebody else says, of Hyunjin, who backs away, hand closing around the memory stone. “Hmm, protective, aren’t you? Hand it over, pretty boy.”

The first man smiles, steel. “You got two options. Hand it over, or we’ll take it from you. The second option might be a lot more painful.”

Jisung catches Hyunjin’s eye. Hyunjin’s stare is glassy with fear, mirroring his own. How could Jisung not have thought of the danger; how could he have dragged Hyunjin along on this irrational journey? They’re close enough to the entrance of the mining site that they could run.

And then— “They’re mine.”

The voice has changed, become deeper, but no matter the frequency, the feeling is the same.

 _Jeongin_?

Jisung’s seen him a couple of times in his dreams, but the real Jeongin looks different, so much more real than the faded recollection Jisung holds onto like a worn blanket. After so many years, Jeongin’s face has become sharper, his stance taller. He’s covered in as much dirt as anybody else, but his presence is markedly different.

“They’re mine,” Jeongin repeats. “I’ll take care of them. You know I split whatever I get, if they have anything worth taking, you’ll know. Go.”

There’s an air around Jeongin, the kind that commands respect. He must be looked up to among the others, or hold some position of rank, because like magic, they leave, albeit reluctantly. Once they’re out of earshot, Jeongin says, “You guys alright?”

Jisung doesn’t say anything, and Jeongin gapes, eyes widening in recognition.

“Wait— Jisung?”

Jisung nods, and Jeongin’s eyes shine, although he sobers a moment later.

“How— why— you look so different, but so similar…”  

And for a moment, the diamond district fades away, and it’s just Jisung and Jeongin looking at each other, both of them lost for words. Jisung wants to reach out for an embrace, but he can’t get his feet to move; they seem stuck to the ground.

Jeongin recovers first. “That doesn’t matter, you’re not supposed to be here,” he says. He glances around. “On so many levels. Uh— follow me.”

Jeongin turns around and walks fast, not looking back. Jisung and Hyunjin hurry after him. Jisung thinks he might explode from the thoughts that swirl in his mind— the relief of being rescued, the delight and disbelief of seeing Jeongin again, the confusion as to what will happen next.

Jeongin leads them inside of a building, then into a dark room, closing the door behind them. The ground is strewn with rock, air filled with dust. “Used to be a storage room,” Jeongin says. “I— is this a dream? What’s going on?”

“No, it isn’t a dream,” Jisung says, faint. “At least, I don’t think so.”

“He’s on a quest,” Hyunjin explains, thankfully functional as an outsider to the situation. “This is a… break.”

“Okay, well then,” Jeongin says. He pulls Jisung into an embrace; Jisung hugs back, fierce. “I really don’t have much time here, I’m sorry. You guys have to leave as soon as possible.”

“No, I don’t object to that,” Hyunjin says. “I’m Hyunjin, by the way. You’re Jeongin. Jisung told me about you.”

Jeongin laughs; it’s a bright, innocent laugh, contrasting the setting they’re in. “You’re right about that. But… what are you doing here? You said something about a quest?”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with the quest,” Jisung says, but the key on his hand sears as soon as he says this, and he bites back a hiss of pain. “Or, well, maybe it does. Tell me… about the mines?”

“No, I have a better question,” Hyunjin says, which is fine, because Jisung’s just throwing out anything he can think of. “Do you know anything about a magician, or a magician’s apprentice?”

It’s a shot in the dark, and Jeongin’s answer stuns them both. “I’ve heard rumors around the camp of a magician’s apprentice, yes,” Jeongin says. “A few people are hoping that he’ll save them. I don’t hope for such things, but it’s a nice thought.”

“What do you mean, save them?” Hyunjin asks.

“We have quotas. We’re not measuring up to them,” Jeongin says, blunt, repeating the same words Minho had said in a much starker context. “The quotas are getting higher and higher and the punishments for not meeting them getting worse and worse. Nobody I know has died yet, but… we’re all tired. Some people say there will be a war against Chronos, since many of us might die at this point anyway. But it’s a living. It’s my living.”

Jeongin reaches over to grasp Jisung’s hand. “I miss you. But I’m glad you aren’t here.”

“Hopefully we’ll meet at a different place some other time,” Jisung says.

His voice must be sad, because Jeongin hurries to reassure him. “No, it isn’t so bad, I’ve made a few friends here. The diamond district, we’re all still here, you know. I’ve heard of some sectors that are worse.”

Jisung squeezes Jeongin’s hand. He coughs; the air is hard to breathe.

“You need to leave now,” Jeongin says.

Jisung wants to say, _wait, our meeting was so short_ , or, _how can I know when I’ll see you again_ , but he understands. He turns to Hyunjin, whose expression has shifted to something undecipherable, and Jisung is about to ask for them to leave. But, “Wait. Let me give you something,” Hyunjin says. He unclasps the bracelet around his wrist, then puts it in Jeongin’s palm. “Wear this, it’ll keep you safe. The magician’s apprentice gave it to me, but I think you need it more.”

Jeongin wraps it around his wrist, cautious. “Thank you,” he says. “I’ll meet you in the future and repay you.”

Jisung doesn’t know how that will work, but he decides then that if he found a way to meet Jeongin after all these years, then he can do it again. Hyunjin takes the stone out of his pocket; the world swirls, and Jisung’s eyes fall shut to darkness.

\---

When he opens his eyes, they’re back in Woojin’s room. It takes Jisung a moment to get his bearings. Hyunjin is breathing hard, a layer of dust settled over his clothes. He puts the memory stone back in the bag, pulling the drawstrings tight. “I…”

Tears fall down Jisung’s cheeks; he puts his hand to his eyes to find them wet. He doesn’t want to cry, but it’s like a dam’s burst. There’s no coherent thought, only skin rubbed raw, wounds ripped open. He presses the heel of his palm to his face, trying to stem the flow.

Hyunjin walks closer and pulls Jisung into an awkward embrace; Jisung’s too broken to do anything but turn his face and hide it in the fabric of Hyunjin’s tunic. There’s a stone lodged in his throat. He can’t speak.

“Jeongin will be fine, the bracelet will protect him,” Hyunjin says, voice scratchy. “Are you… okay? Do you need a moment?”

Jisung steps back, keeping his face toward the floor. “I think I understand why Woojin… would want to help,” he says. If he was a magician, he’d do anything to help, too. But he isn’t. He’s just Han Jisung, on a quest he isn’t sure why he was picked for, but since he’s on the quest, he might as well fulfill it. “I’m… fine. Let’s go back to your room. Seungmin and Minho are probably wondering where we went.”

“You sure?”

“Don’t pity me,” Jisung says, fierce. He starts to replace some of Woojin’s displaced things, a fire sparking in his chest. “We just started. We know for sure that Woojin went to the diamond district. Let’s use that information.”

“Okay,” Hyunjin says.

 _Jeongin has the bracelet. He’ll be fine_. It isn’t just Jeongin Jisung is worried about, but everybody in the district, but there’s a small comfort in knowing at least his friend will be protected.

He and Hyunjin slip back into Hyunjin’s room. Minho and Seungmin are looking over a scroll; when the two of them walk in, Seungmin double-takes. “What happened to you guys?” he says. “Your clothes—”

“Long story. We got confirmation Woojin was at the diamond district,” Hyunjin says, short. “What are you two looking at?”

Seungmin looks at Hyunjin, then sighs. “I think I trust you too much at this point, but I’ll get the story out of you later,” he mutters. “Anyway, Minho and I were doing research. We think Woojin might be trapped in the miroh.”

Hyunjin deflates, picks at a thread on his tunic. “That’s just great,” he says. “What?”

Jisung is tired. His body feels numb, so heavy it’s tied to the ground. He hears these words from underwater.

“You know the miroh is on a different plane that we can’t access,” Seungmin says. “I think Woojin’s in the heart of the forest, where you went to look, but you couldn’t find him because he was in the miroh. But you could see him in the water because the magic of the miroh bleeds into Earth.”

“So to us non-magicians, he’s stuck in the pond,” Minho says, with a forced smile.

“I really think he stole the Earth goddess’s ring,” Seungmin says. “The tip about the diamond district just seals it. But look, if Woojin did something like that, I feel there’d be consequences. Maybe this is a consequence.” He pulls up his arm to show where the skin has turned to earth.

“The one thing that doesn’t make sense is that the earth goddess isn’t revengeful,” Minho says. “Seungmin and I read that the ring gives freely. But otherwise, I think… it’s true.”

Suddenly, Jisung knows what his quest is. It doesn’t sit right with him, because it doesn’t help the diamond district, and he isn’t sure it will get Woojin back, but reluctantly, he voices, “So my quest is to return the ring.” His hand sears in pain, and a brilliant light emanates from his skin— the four of them look in tandem to see the silver key on his hand turn gold.

Minho laughs, but it isn’t a real laugh. “Oh, so you’ll tell us the quest,” he says to no one, “but you won’t give Woojin back? What kind of deal is that?”

Seungmin’s expression transforms to one of deep exhaustion. “I’m more concerned that the only way I can see to return the earth goddess’s ring is to go into the miroh,” he says. “And that’s not a place most people go.”

\---

Hyunjin changes into a tunic that looks less questionable and goes to get them food from the mess hall, as it’s dinner. He comes back with steamed potatoes in his pockets; it should be nice to eat something other than stale bread for a change, but Jisung isn’t hungry. Seungmin and Minho decide to stay overnight so that they can come up with a plan. The room is still too small to fit the four of them, but nobody moves. Once it gets too dark, Hyunjin lights the lamp so that they can continue to look at Seungmin’s texts.

“So I’m assuming Woojin accessed the miroh through magical means,” Seungmin says. “But that isn’t a choice for us. The magician’s gone right now, too, right?”

“The magician’s been gone for a long time, that’s probably how Woojin’s able to get away with all this in the first place,” Minho says. “We can’t rely on the magician for help.”

“Then there’s another way, but I’m unfortunately useless,” Seungmin says. “They say there’s an entrance to the miroh on an island in the middle of the ocean, but it’s not a specific place that one can get to with coordinates or a compass. My maps won’t help.”

Minho scoffs, dropping his arm over his leg. “Well, shit.”

“So the way to the island is to check the skies, since the universe is something bigger than the earth,” Seungmin says.

The skies.

Hyunjin stares, nonplussed. Jisung thinks of the astronomical texts on his desk, and wonders how good Hyunjin actually is. Good enough to be chosen for and stay in Seungjeon Academy. Good enough to get to the miroh?

“Woojin got to the miroh with magic,” Seungmin says. “Hyunjin, could you get to it with science?”

There’s a pause, where Hyunjin looks uncertain, unconfident. Minho’s expression is nothing short of astounded; Jisung is sure this sentiment must be mirrored on his own facade. But Seungmin looks calm; he locks eyes with Hyunjin, the two of them sharing some kind of nonverbal communication, and Hyunjin nods. “I’d need some more specific directions,” Hyunjin says, quiet but firm. “And more importantly, I’d need a ship.”

“I can get you more specific directions from Seungjeon’s library,” Seungmin says. “I unfortunately can’t provide you a ship.”

Minho speaks, halting them in their formulation of an impossible idea.

“You guys are insane,” he says, disbelieving. “How are you gonna get a ship?”

Seungmin doesn’t bite. “Not sure about that part yet. Got any ideas, Minho?”

“Oh, I don’t know, but since we’re reaching— Jisung, you’re from the court, right?” Minho deadpans. “Do you have any connections there?”

It’s a satirical suggestion, but Hyunjin’s eyes widen. “Jisung, you said you used to be friends with the king! Could you ask him for a ship?”

Hyunjin is dead serious. Minho’s mouth falls open, and Jisung chokes on nothing. Sure, he used to be friends with the king, but one, doesn’t Hyunjin hate the king, and two— “Wait, they were friends?” Minho asks, incredulous. “They were good enough friends that Jisung could just casually borrow a ship?”

Hyunjin spreads his hands. “It’s all I got.”

“Hey, it’s better than nothing,” Seungmin argues. “Head to the court, ask the king for a ship, take the ship to the miroh, and then return the ring to the earth goddess. It’s a four step recipe.”

Put like that, it sounds simple. Jisung is sure the logistics of it will be ridiculously difficult. For a second, Jisung wants to think that Seungmin’s lost his mind, but then he realizes that Seungmin’s just been working with what’s been given to him, creating a map from the bare milestones he’s been given.

“Jisung?” Hyunjin asks.

“I’m onboard,” Jisung says.

Hyunjin’s eyes flash, and Jisung sees his reflection, mirrored in the dark of Hyunjin’s irises, and something in Jisung clicks, thinks, _we’re on the same wavelength, we just haven’t clicked until now._ This is why the miroh chose them to be together.

Seungmin just looks serene. “Okay. I’ll go to the school library now, I guess. I know where to find information the best. Can I borrow your lamp?”

“Yeah, of course,” Hyunjin says.

Seungmin leaves with the lamp, plunging Hyunjin, Jisung, and Minho into darkness. With the lights off, Jisung is allowed to fully process the magnitude of what he’s agreed to. He wonders how Seungmin can be so calm and trust Hyunjin so completely. He wonders if Hyunjin is really as sure as he seems to be.

Minho speaks first.

“So you guys are really going to do it? Go to the court, ask for a ship?” There’s no trace of mockery in his voice now.

“That’s the plan,” Hyunjin says. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning. We’re on a time crunch here. It isn’t just about Woojin anymore. I don’t know how long it will take for the illness to— spread to Seungmin’s heart, and I think returning the ring might be the cure. We have to try.”

“I’m going to leave tomorrow morning, then, too,” Minho says. “Not to go with you. I’m not sure how much use you’d have for a blacksmith’s apprentice with your quest. I’m going to go to the forest to try and find Woojin.”

Jisung and Hyunjin have already tried to do that, but Jisung thinks about the tan stone around Minho’s neck. Maybe Minho will have better luck than them.

Hyunjin says, “Good luck.”

“Good luck to you, too. I’m going to go to my room now.” Minho’s sillouhette stands up. “Let’s meet up later as friends. Alright?”  

“Alright,” Hyunjin agrees, but he sounds young, scared. Jisung doesn’t understand much about the miroh, but he thinks that there’s a chance they might not return to fulfill Minho’s statement. He looks at his hand. The clé seems to shimmer in the darkness.

\---

It’s just Jisung and Hyunjin now. It’s dark. Jisung tilts his head to the wall, tired. “Are you sure you want to go on the quest with me?” Jisung asks, although he doesn’t know why he asks, as he isn’t sure what he would do if Hyunjin said no.

“Of course,” Hyunjin says immediately. “I mean, you kind of need an astronomer if you wanna go to the miroh, right?”

“Yeah.

There’s a sigh. “But… I think I would go anyway. The universe tied us together. Seems like we should follow through,” he says, and Jisung pockets the words in his chest, a little star among all the darkness. “Go to sleep now. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll talk to Seungmin when he gets back. And then I’ll sleep, too.”

Jisung feels around for the bedroll, the climbs onto it and lies down, curling his knees to his chest. He’s so tired, but sleep won’t come. He thinks of Jeongin in the diamond district, Minho with his forced smile, the patches of dirt on Seungmin’s skin. Time moves erratically, a flood of nothing until the door creaks open, bringing with it the flare of brightness from a lamp.

“Alright then,” Seungmin says, voice filtering through the darkness. “I guess I’ll be walking to the court for the second time in what, a week?”

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin says, low. “You’re not coming along.”

Jisung twists in surprise, while Seungmin flinches, crossing his arms. Both of them had just naturally assumed Seungmin would go with them. “I came up with the plan, what do you mean I’m not coming along?”

“You’re not.”

“But I am.”

Seungmin’s voice is hard, stubborn, and Hyunjin sighs, cracks. “No, Seungmin, of course I’d want you… to come, but you’re sick,” he says, soft. “Maybe you’re not feeling anything right now, but I’m not sure what a trip to the miroh would entail…”

There’s a stare-down. Maybe some telepathic communication.

“It doesn’t matter that I’m sick. I’ll feel guilty if something happened to you, and I wasn’t there.”

“But you’re stronger than me. You’d just feel guilty. I’d break if I knew I put you in danger.”

There’s a silence, and Jisung knows that Seungmin has been convinced. Jisung thinks of how cold he used to think Hyunjin was, and realized that all of his first impressions were wrong. “Okay,” Seungmin says.

“I’m sorry.”

“I found some information in the library,” Seungmin says, ignoring Hyunjin’s apology. “Stay safe on your quest.”

Hyunjin says nothing. Jisung rolls over, not wanting to intrude on the goodbye. He falls asleep to the sound of whispers and the muffled sound of tears.

\---

Hyunjin and Jisung leave the next morning. Jisung thinks, with a tired sort of amusement, that although he’s lost track of the kilometers he’s walked at this point, it’s a little like walking around the court to deliver bread. He swallows a tired laugh when he thinks about giving those in the court the stale, soon-to-be-moldy bread in his backpack.

Hyunjin doesn’t say much, lost in his own thoughts. Just as well. But Jisung doubts the two of them would fight anymore. Fighting seems so pointless now. “Hey,” Hyunjin says. “Can you… tell me about the new king?”

Well, this conversation has never gone well in the past. But there’s no animosity in Hyunjin’s voice.

“I’m just a servant, I can’t tell you much,” Jisung says. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because I didn’t like you when I met you. I didn’t like the king, either,” Hyunjin says. “But if I’m asking him for a favor, I think maybe I should like him a little more. Do you think he’ll be a good king?”

Jisung bursts out laughing. “Well, of course I’m biased,” he says, but doesn’t say _because I’m in love with him_ , for reasons he doesn’t understand. “But I think he will. As we got older, and he understood more and more about the kingdom, he got a lot more serious. He once said he felt very burdened because he had to lead well. We all knew his father wasn’t the best leader.”

Hyunjin pauses for a moment. “You really used to be friends with him, huh.”

“Yeah. I did. Obviously, that changed when we all grew up. But the two of us used to be friends, along with Changbin. Or at least I’d like to think so. We liked to tell each other stories. Pretend we were sailors or soldiers or heroes.”

“Can you tell me them?” Hyunjin says.

“You don’t mind?”

“As long as you don’t tire yourself out.”

“No, I like to talk, I don’t get tired doing it,” Jisung says, and Hyunjin smiles, a really genuine smile that involves his eyes crinkling up as well. Jisung tells his stories, and Hyunjin listens. The walk doesn’t hurt when Jisung gets caught up in his imagination, in his past. He thinks that in a next life he could be a storyteller. That’d be nice.

He and Hyunjin reach the court late at night. Jisung stopped talking a while ago, and now he scans the area for the tree that he and Seungmin had used to enter last time. They open the trap door, and Hyunjin makes a face at the smell. “Has this ever been used?” he asks.

“I don’t think so, at least not in a long time,” Jisung answers, as they continue down the tunnel. It’s as unpleasant as he remembered. A thought occurs to him. “Hey, how’d Seungmin even know about it?”

“Seungmin just… knows everything,” Hyunjin groans. “It’s kind of annoying sometimes.”

The ground slopes up, and Jisung says, “be quiet,” and then feels upward with his hand. His fingers hit the ceiling at an awkward angle, and he bites his lip hard and pushes. It opens, air streaming in, and they look out into the night.

“We’re at the back of the palace,” Jisung whispers.

“How do we get in,” Hyunjin whispers back. Jisung shrugs, wide-eyed. He creeps out of the tunnel, shutting the trapdoor, and Hyunjin follows. They’re out in the open now. Jisung feels naked. There’s no location to get to this time. They just… have to get into the palace.

“Any chance Seungmin told you how to get in?” Jisung asks. They inch along the wall, aimless.

“No, I thought you knew how to get in,” Hyunjin says, inching along as well.

“There’s the front door?” Jisung says, but he doesn’t really get to finish his statement, because he finds himself pinned to the ground, gasping in pain as his breath leaves him.

“What business do you have in the court, at the palace?” a voice demands, and Jisung thinks, _oh, shit_.

They’re nowhere as lucky as last time.

Jisung’s too dazed to think of an answer, but somewhere to his right, Hyunjin’s voice wheezes, “We’re on a quest. We have a favor to ask of the king.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I have ever heard,” the voice says, unamused. Jisung tries to turn his face and can’t move— his arms are pinned. “Where are you guys even from?”

Jisung’s mind unscrambles itself. “From the Seungjeon Academy. What my friend says is right. I got the symbol of the clé.” As the words leave his mouth, his hand sears. But he isn’t the only one in pain. He suddenly finds himself free, the guard that had him pinned down staggering back. “I’m on a quest from the gods.”

“The gods,” the guard splutters, wheezing in pain. He looks at the woman that’s got Hyunjin pinned. “Should we believe them? My hands are burned.”

The woman puts her hands up, releasing Hyunjin. “I won’t take my chances. Search their packs. If you find nothing, allow them in.”

Hyunjin stands up, along with Jisung, and they square off at the guards. “Here’s my pack,” Hyunjin says, and nods at Jisung to give up his as well. Jisung pulls it off his shoulders and hands it over. He’s well aware there’s nothing incriminating in there besides some bread less fresh than it should be, but he’s tired and on-edge.

The guards somehow manage to keep an eye on them and search their bags at the same time, and once they’re satisfied with the results, the man says, “Follow us.” Jisung and Hyunjin do as told, and they’re lead to the entrance of the palace.

Right at the entrance of the palace is another guard, big and burly and looking half dead on his feet. “What’s going on?” he asks.  

“These two say they’re on a quest from the gods and would like to see the king,” the woman says. “They’re not lying. One of them has the symbol of the clé on his hand and burned Minjun.”

“I see,” the other guard says, wary. “It’s the middle of the night, this should wait until morning. The king might be asleep—”

The woman snorts. “We all know His Majesty doesn’t sleep.”

“I suppose,” the guard says reluctantly. “I’ll escort them in. Packs down.”

\---

Jisung has never been in the palace before. It’s as impressive on the inside as it is on the outside. He follows the guard down dimly lit hallways, as winding as a maze, before they stop outside a room. The guard raps on the door, and a woman steps out. “Hey,” the guard says. “These guys want to see the king.”

The woman’s stature isn’t all that impressive, but she has an aura about her; Jisung gets the sense she isn’t one to cross. Next to him, Hyunjin shifts from one foot to another.

“You guys just let them in?” the woman says, staring at Jisung and Hyunjin with distrust. “Wait, no, you’re familiar. I’ve seen you before.”

“Who’s familiar?” a known voice says, although it’s a lot deeper than when Jisung used to hear it frequently. Chan appears in the doorway, takes a moment to process the situation, and then “— Jisung?”

It’s awkward. Jisung expected this situation to be many things, but awkward wasn’t one of them— in truth, he’d been mostly concerned with getting here. Now, with Chan looking at him in confusion, and a jumbled request at the back of his mouth, all he can think is that he should have thought further.

“I—”

Hyunjin saves them both by bowing. “Your Majesty.”

Chan dismisses the guards and ushers Jisung and Hyunjin into the room. “Please explain why you’re here.”

“I— I’ve been given a quest,” Jisung says, and shows the clé on his hand. “From the miroh. I would like to ask a favor.”

“And what is the quest and favor?”

“I have to return the earth goddess’s ring,” Jisung says. He swallows hard. “And I need a ship to get to the miroh.”

Chan’s good with poker faces, but Jisung catches the miniscule raise of his eyebrow. “You need to… return the earth goddess’s ring,” he says slowly. “And who is your friend? Will he get you to the miroh?”

Hyunjin steps forward.

“I’m an apprentice of the astronomer,” he says. “I’ll do my best. You see, Your Majesty… the ring was stolen from the earth goddess, and we believe there’s a sickness spreading because of it. It’s imperative we return it.”

“I’ve heard of the sickness,” Chan says, eyes hard. “Do you know who stole the ring?”

Jisung doesn’t say anything, painfully aware that this is the king he is talking to, and that he might incriminate Woojin if he tells the truth. Hyunjin has no such qualms. “My friend did,” Hyunjin says. “Do you know why, Your Majesty? Because he knew the people in the diamond district, and saw they were suffering. He wanted to help them so that they might suffer less.”

Hyunjin’s tone is matter-of-fact, lacking any of the barbs that might accompany such words.

Chan is silent for a moment. “I’ll send for a ship so you may return the ring,” he says. “I’ve studied the miroh— it will take more than astronomical knowledge. You’ll need a navigator.”

“Thank you,” Hyunjin says, and Jisung hastily repeats the words as well.

A shadow passes over Chan’s face, as if he isn’t sure of what he should say next. “And I will help those in the diamond district the best I can, if my methods may be better,” he says. Hyunjin appears unmoved; Jisung clenches his fists. “You’ll stay in the palace for the night. We’ll provide rooms for you.”

Hyunjin and Jisung get separate rooms. Jisung’s room is larger than anything he’s used to, and he finds himself unable to sleep. He paces the floor back and forth until he lays down on the ground, ignoring the bed that’s been provided. He’s tired. At least a ship’s been guaranteed.

Amidst all of the thoughts in his mind, a quiet one floats up. He isn’t in love with Chan. Hyunjin was right, even if his words were harsh. Jisung’s love was something from the past, a story he told himself during his time as a servant. Now, with all the events that have passed, Jisung sees the story for just what it is, a story. His heart has changed, too full of the present.

\---

Jisung doesn’t know what kind of magic Chan pulled at night, but the next morning, he receives a significantly heavier pack and finds fresh bread and a change of clothes. He and Hyunjin don’t have to walk to the harbor— a coach has been sent to the front of the court. It’s the same kind of coach that Jisung took to the palace so many years ago, except this one is significantly more comfortable.

“Nice we don’t have to walk,” Hyunjin comments, as Jisung folds himself into the compartment. “Neither of us know where the harbor is. Have you ever been to the ocean?”

Jisung shakes his head. “Most I’ve seen is a river.” When he was younger, he tried to follow the small creek near his home to the sea. It didn’t work quite the way he wanted it to.

“Seungmin wants to see the ocean someday. He said that it’s so big he can’t imagine it in his head, and that we know more about the moon than the seas,” Hyunjin says. “I should review the texts he gave me, so we can get to the miroh.”

Hyunjin pulls the texts out of his backpack, and Jisung takes this as a note not to interfere, instead looking out the window. He’s never seen this scenery before, never been to the fields. In the agricultural district, there are rows and rows of crops, people toiling in them, knee deep in the water, faces shielded from the sun with straw hats.

Jisung hasn’t seen much of Ninth. He can’t even imagine how much he doesn’t know about the rest of the world.

It takes two days and a half to get to the harbor. Once Jisung catches glimpse of the sea, his breath hitches— an expanse of blue, sunlight glinting off of the surface. Ships bob along the coast, tied to the docks— along the harbor, people bark instructions, a cacophony of noise, loading and unloading goods along planks.

“The sails are so pretty,” Hyunjin comments.

Jisung watches someone climb down from the mast, and wonders what it’s like to be so high up. He squints across the line of ships, wondering which one is the one that’s been sent for them. Chan told them it was called the Io One, and that it should be easily distinguishable.

“Alright, my instructions were to take you here,” the coachman says. “Have a nice day.”

“You too,” Hyunjin says, and he and Jisung climb out of the coach, and walk out into the harbor. Jisung wants to look everywhere, and Hyunjin seems to share his curiosity— they slow their steps to watch a merchant ship unload a crate of strange-looking fruits until Hyunjin shakes out of his stupor and says, “Let’s go find the Io One.”

They locate the near the end of the harbor, the words “Io One” chipping off of the side of the ship. Jisung spots a girl looking over the side, who disappears from view for a second before she reappears onshore. He blinks— how’d she get here so fast? “Hey,” she says. “Are you Han Jisung and Hwang Hyunjin?”

They nod. “I’m Jeon Somi, first mate,” she says. “The rest of the crew should be down soon.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jisung says. Somi’s pretty, in a very wind-blown kind of way, braid thrown over her shoulder like the ropes aboard.

Three people arrive shortly after. Lee Daehwi, captain, Lee Felix, navigator, and Sohn Eric, shipwright and chef— “Although chef is a loose term, I pray for your taste buds,” Somi jabs, which Eric just shrugs to.

“It’s okay, I’ve been eating stale bread for days,” Jisung says.

“Well, that’s good, everything aboard is stale,” Daehwi says. “Except for the people, I’d like to say we’re pretty interesting. Welcome aboard.”

\---

Jisung and Hyunjin are absorbed into the crew within days.

Sleeping quarters are provided, but Jisung doesn’t plan on using them very much. He’s too fascinated by the vast expanse of ocean, saltwater sprays pulsing through the air, knots forming in the water behind them, wind coursing through his hair.

Daehwi wasn’t kidding about everything aboard being stale, but Jisung can tell Daehwi doesn’t mind at all. He’s a sailor, and the life fits him perfectly well— for Jisung, it’s temporary, which is fine, because there’s a certain charm to sailing that he likes for now but suspects he can only take in small doses.

Hyunjin spends a lot of time with Felix, the navigator, poring over charts and looking through telescopes.

Eric befriends Jisung, teaching him how to tie knots and to move the sails, and gives him his four hour watch shift where Jisung climbs the mast and looks out. Splinters enter his hands, and there’s a certain terror in being so high up, but up there, he gets the sense that he could touch the sky, that the world has expanded. Jisung also ends up sharing Eric’s role as cook. Baking is his turf, but he’s developed a feel for anything food related.

When Somi tastes his breakfast, she says, “We might have to keep you a captive after this mission.”

“Yes, let’s,” Felix says. “It’s fun to have other people around.”

By now, Jisung understands how Somi was able to get down to the dock so fast— she’s nimble, able to scale the mast in a matter of a minute, and sometimes he finds her perched in locations that he personally wouldn’t find comfortable at all.

The fourth day at sea, it rains heavy and hard, and Jisung shivers as he bails water over the side of the deck, eyes clouded. Droplets rain down his face, cling to his hair. After the storm passes, his clothes take an hour to dry. Eric, used to this, slogs through the remaining water and plops down on the deck, uncaring of the water.

“Man, I hate rain. Never gets better.”

“How long have you been aboard?” Jisung asks.

“I’ve lost track. I can’t remember staying in a single place for more than a month,” Eric says. “I feel like I’ve spent my whole life on the move.”

That’s the exact opposite of Jisung’s life at the court, although maybe not, because there’s more routine to sailing than he’s expected. But Eric likes to tell him about the foreign lands the Io One has visited, the people they’ve met, the adventures they’ve had, delighted at having someone to speak to that doesn’t already know of these experiences, and to Jisung they sound almost like fantasies.

“Do you think you’ve seen the whole world?” Jisung asks.

“Of course not, the world’s too big for any one person to cover,” Eric says. “We haven’t been to the miroh before. I gotta say, the Io One, we’re the best of the best, but to find a mythical island without even coordinates to go by? That’s a tough demand.”

Jisung swallows. Eric’s words are breezy, but his heart falls. Eric notices his discomfort and says, “Hey, no worries. We’ll get to the miroh. We’ve never not completed a mission.”

“Yeah…” Jisung murmurs, and looks up to the mast, where Somi is currently perched. He gets up, walks across the deck, and climbs up. She waves at him, uncaring of her position, and the two of them sit in silence.

Jisung looks at the horizons and wonders what he’s looking for.

\---

Jisung wakes up before the sun is up, a residue of habit.

He walks out of the cabin and out onto the deck. To his surprise, Hyunjin is out, too, looking into the distance. “Hi,” Jisung says, and joins him.

“Oh, hi,” Hyunjin says.

“What are you doing up this early?” Jisung says. “Aren’t you already up all night looking at the stars?”

“I really, really could not sleep,” Hyunjin says, and the slump to his body, the tiredness to his eyes, the taut pull his mouth, become apparent with his words. “Too many thoughts. I really hope Seungmin’s okay. I think I’d feel it if he weren’t, but I need him to be okay.”

“He’s strong,” Jisung says.

“Yeah, he puts up a fight,” Hyunjin agrees. “But… the sooner we get to the miroh, the better. It was… terrifying, his skin turning to earth. He said it didn’t hurt, but it didn’t look good.”

Jisung remembers the sight, and a prickle runs up his spine. “Well, you said you’d feel it if he weren’t okay. He’s really your best friend, huh? Nothing like this sort-of soulmate connection we’ve got, you two are really telepathic.”

“Ah, no, we’re not, we’ve just known each other for a long time,” Hyunjin says. “And I guess it helped that I didn’t hate him right off the bat. I’m really mad that I argued with you so much now. It wasted a lot of time.”

Hyunjin looks so guilty that Jisung’s heart twists. “It’s fine, we’re here now,” he says. Hyunjin still looks mad at himself, so Jisung tries to distract him. “Hey, I told you about my time at the court. You should tell me about the Academy.”

“Ah. Yeah, well, you know about me admiring Woojin for the longest time. But anyway, there’s this test to get into the Seungjeon Academy, and somehow I passed, and it was crazy because I was from the diamond district. I still don’t know how I got in.”  

His words are self-deprecating, and Jisung narrows his eyes, says, “You’re really hard on yourself.”

“I mean, maybe, but I really didn’t fit in there at first. Our first two years, we’re just general apprentices, and I was behind on all of my classes and stuff. Seungmin likes to pretend he isn’t nice, but he helped me out all the time and stayed up with me at night. After awhile I got good. Good enough to be one of the astronomer’s apprentices. Seungmin always brushes it off when I try to thank him…”  

Jisung looks at the ring on his finger. “We’ll thank him by returning the ring.”

“I— _need_ it to cure him. Or else I don’t know what to do,” Hyunjin says. “Magic isn’t my turf, I don’t understand it.”

Over the side of the ship, the sun rises, spilling over the skies like the yolk of an egg. The clouds turn a flaming shade of pink. Hyunjin tilts his head, and stares at the sunrise.

\---

A week passes. Probably more. Jisung can’t tell.

At some point, he’s seized by fear. The skin on his hand has become raw, and he wonders if he’ll ever complete the quest, and if he completes it, if it will even do good. The endless expanse of sea terrifies him. He trusts the Io One crew, but he misses the knowledge that solid land gave him, the certainty of ground. He heads out onto the deck. The sky spills above him, inky darkness dotted with stars.

He walks over to the mast, where Hyunjin is perched, and climbs. The height no longer scares him; instead, the sense of being so high up brings him comfort.

“Hey,” Hyunjin says, when Jisung gets up. “Not sure if you know, but it isn’t your shift.”

“Yeah, I haven’t lost all sense of time,” Jisung says, and shivers when he’s hit with a gust of wind. “My turn not to be able to sleep.”

“Ah. You can keep me company, then,” Hyunjin says. Jisung grasps onto the mast, touches the fabric of the sail. He wants to cry, but he doesn’t know where all the sadness suddenly comes from. Maybe it’s because it’s the night.

Hyunjin fiddles with some circular instrument that Jisung doesn’t know the name of. Jisung looks at the night sky, and wonders what Hyunjin sees. Jisung knows there are constellations, but he’s never been able to identify them, and he’s heard of the planets, but everything looks the same to him.

“The stars look red even though they’re not,” Hyunjin says. “Because the universe is expanding. That’s the first thing the astronomer told us.”

“Did the astronomer tell you why the stars seem to disappear when you blink?”

“I don’t think that’s a scientific thing,” Hyunjin says. “I think that’s more a human thing.”

Jisung hums, staring at the sky. After awhile, he feels a strange sense of peace, grounded as a single dot in an ever-growing universe. There are the gods and there is the miroh but their power doesn’t extend to the stars, or even the smaller galaxy they inhibit. Time and space are more powerful than Earth could ever be. And yet there’s been no contact from any other planets yet, although the sky is so big, so that even though the universe is huge, they’re alone insofar as having things that are alive, trees and animals and people who don’t know what to do with the world they’ve been given. Don’t know whether to conquer or explore or love.

Hyunjin might know the secrets of the sky, but Jisung’s always been earth-bound.

“Hey,” Hyunjin says. “Are you still in love with the king?”

Ah. How could Jisung be? Something takes root in his chest, something rather inconvenient and out of place, a miniature cosmos swirling around in his heart that feels like a microscopic universe, ever-expanding.

“No.”

Not with the king.

\---

In the end, no one’s keeping watch when they find the miroh.

There’s a storm. Jisung bails water off the side of the ship, arms straining with the weight. The storm passes as quickly as it started, clouds parting to show slivers of blue sky. In the distance, an island rises swirling with mist, dark shapes in it like the sillouhette of a jungle.

Somi stands, stunned, braid trailing water down her back. She turns to Jisung. “You—”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I see.”

The Io One docks, and Jisung sees that the jungle had been an illusion, a trick of magic or the mist. When Jisung hops down from the side of the ship, the only things he finds on the island are rocks and shrubbery. Sand crunches underfoot. In the center of the island is a free-standing gate.

Jisung knows instinctively that this is it.

He walks closer to the gate. The Io One officially anchored, the rest of the crew follows.

“Best of luck,” Felix says. “It was nice to meet you. We’ll be here when you return.”

Jisung stands, paralyzed. It’s not a when he returns, but an _if_ — this journey has wrenched everything from him, but what if it isn’t even halfway over yet, and there are infinitely more trials he has to face? The clé burns on his hand, and doesn’t stop burning, magnetized to the gate. All this time, Jisung has had help, but whatever he’s facing now, he has to face alone. In the end, it’s his quest.

“Hey,” Hyunjin says. “You got this.”

Jisung lifts his eyes from the sand. “How can you be sure?”

“Would I ever say something just to reassure you?” Hyunjin asks, and makes this choked sound that sounds like a cross between a laugh and a sob. “No, really, we got this far. What’s a little more?”

Right then, Jisung makes a decision that doesn’t have to do anything with quests or higher beings but rather the odd rules that guide the heart.

“I’d just like you to know, if I don’t return,” Jisung says. “That somehow you got me to fall in love with you. The universe was right on that one.”

Hyunjin smiles, small. “You better return, then, because that’d be a really sad goodbye, and I want a chance to say it back.”

It isn’t a goodbye. All this time, Jisung hasn’t managed to say goodbye to Hyunjin, even the times he wanted to. So Jisung turns his back and presses his hand to the gate. The key fades, a small _click_ is heard, and the world seems to plunge itself underwater; Jisung puts his head under the waves, and walks in.

\---

Jisung is standing at the front of a jungle. He doesn’t seem to be on the island anymore. When he turns around, there’s no gate, just an endless path stretching behind him. He looks at the ring on his hand, sighs, and starts to walk.

It’s like the forest, but amplified a thousand. Around him is a symphony of noise, the trill of birdsong mixed with the chatter of hundreds of other animals, although he can’t see anything from his vantage. Over his head is a leafy green canopy, sunlight illuminating the path that he’s walking. He sees a waterfall flowing over rocks, vines wrapped around trees several times as tall as him, plants that eerily resemble the people he knows.

The path splits off into two once he gets deep enough in. Jisung frowns and turns right after internal debate. The path narrows so that he has to take care not to trip over roots, and then he emerges into a small clearing where there’s a small hut, flowers growing around the roof.

The entire jungle emanates magic, but there’s so much concentrated power wafting from the hut that Jisung feels dizzy. He walks closer anyway and raps on the door, then leans back on his feet.

The door opens. There’s a woman standing there, if woman is the correct word. Her eyes are the bright green of the forest canopy above them, her hair vines down her back, flowers blooming off of them; her skin is the rich color of earth, and her dress is a waterfall that falls down to her knees.

“Hello,” Jisung stutters, senses overloaded. He knows instinctively that this is the earth goddess.

“Ah, a human,” she says. The language she speaks is not his, but something more primitive, universal. “Your kind has had the hardest time finding this place. I’m impressed. Any reason for the visit?”

“I’m here to return your ring,” he says, having a hard time figuring out the words, as he finds that his language has changed as well. It reverberates through his vocal chords, fills his entire mouth, sounds like the song of birds and the burble of fish and the silent communication done everyday by trees.

She cocks her head. “That’s not your only reason,” she says, and it’s true. “It’s human custom, I believe, to invite visitors into your home. Please come in, and we can talk more.”

Jisung obliges, words of this other language returning to him like a long-forgotten memory. The hut is much bigger on the inside than it is on the outside, and he follows her into a room with the stump of an enormous tree in the center, surrounded by toadstools. She takes a seat on a toadstool, and he follows her example.

“Have you adjusted to the miroh yet?” she asks, and looks him over. “It will be hard to leave once you do. I won’t keep you long. You’re on a quest, Han Jisung?”

“Yes,” Jisung says, not knowing how she knows him name. “One day the clé appeared on my hand. It led me here.”

“You wonder why it was you, that the miroh chose,” she says. “I’m afraid the answer is rather disappointing. The miroh just works in strange ways. It chooses the person who can get the job done.”

Jisung shrugs. “I’ve never thought myself special. So that answer isn’t disappointing at all.”

The earth goddess peers at him with interest. “You’re here to return my ring, but more importantly, you’re hoping to reverse the effects that the magic has brought upon your people,” she says. “In truth, I did not think that the ring would have such effects, either.”

“But isn’t it your ring?”

“It’s a gift from the god of fire, much like this dress is from the goddess of water. Nothing belongs to anyone within the miroh— it’s all shared. This rule is what allowed the magician’s apprentice to take the ring in the first place,” she says. “But there is something special about the ring. It’s a living thing.”

At her words, the ring uncurls from Jisung’s finger, a flash of gold, and slithers to the center of the table, where it rearranges itself into a circlet.

“It takes on the countenance of whatever is wearing it,” she says. “Your species is a curious thing. On my hand, the ring only gives. But on yours, it demands a price in return. If you want to turn earth to precious metal, then it stands that people should turn to earth.”

“Will you reverse it?” Jisung asks.

“Of course I can, but the question is if _you_ want to reverse it,” the earth goddess says. “You see this turning as a sickness. But as you’ve observed in your friend, it doesn’t inflict any pain. You are only returning to your roots. Once the turning reaches your heart, you will return to a basic sort of carbon which is your core.”

Jisung is silent.

“You don’t concede,” she says.

“I—” he says. “I see, but to us, we want to live. We want to see our friends and family live.”

She smiles. “The magician’s apprentice has a kind heart, and personally does not expect much of a price. That’s why the turning’s spread has been slow, and has only reached so few people as of now. Your friend that you are worried about is still alive.”

Jisung swallows, hard. “I’m glad.”

“Tell me this one thing, Han Jisung, and I’ll reverse the spell,” she says. “I’ve seen humanity’s spread over my domain. I have seen you conquer and fight and live. I’ve seen that you can create the most beautiful music but inflict the most gruesome pain upon one another and the earth. And I know your nature— that it is to be selfish. But do you believe that you can be kind?”

It’s not an easy answer.

Her eyes shine. “One day, you will create chemicals that I have no name for, manipulate life so that it bends to your advantage, expel carbon from the ground into the atmosphere, form entire worlds that can be contained in devices smaller than your palm. And I am not vengeful, but my lovers are.”

“I see a possible future where air will heat up to unbearable temperatures and turn gray with smoke and other sort of pollutants. One day wildfires will scorch across the land and the sun will beat down upon your shoulders and sear your skin. One day the seas will rise and cover the land and acid will pour from the skies. And life will mutate to bring balance back. It will be the worst sort of pain, nothing like this supposed sickness that the ring brought upon.”

“So tell me, Han Jisung. In the face of such a possibility. Do you think humanity can be kind? Will you be able to see past the shine of diamonds to see the suffering of the small, or will you have to wait to see everyone suffer?”

Jisung has lived most of his life in the court, where not much kindness can be found. But he thinks of Changbin, who loves to learn and gives out cures for free, and Chan, who will break himself to protect his kingdom, and Woojin, who was so desperate to save a people he wasn’t a part of that he went to the miroh in search of help. He thinks of Felix, who has been nothing but generous and is waiting for his return, and Jeongin, who saved him even not knowing who he was, and Minho and Seungmin, who aided him although he was a stranger.

And he thinks of Hyunjin, who told him that it was difficult for him to be kind, but is so kind, anyway.

“Yes.”

The earth goddess smiles. She picks up the ring, and in a flash, it curls around her finger. “I see.” She leans close. “You did well, Han Jisung. You should get going now— your soul will forget the physical world if you stay here too long.”

\---

A brilliant flash of gold emanates from the island. Felix covers his face as sand kicks into his eyes; Hyunjin jumps up and sprints into the light. Miles away, in the heart of a forest, Minho pulls Woojin out of the water. Seungmin watches, wide-eyed, as earth falls off his arms like they were only surface smears of dirt to begin with, leaving only smooth human skin behind.

Jisung lies on the other side of the gate, curled in a fetal position. His chest rises, falls, shallow.

Hyunjin shakes his shoulder. “Jisung? Jisung?”

Jisung pushes himself up in a sitting position, opens his eyes. But where his irises should be is only a faint sheen, glassy. He is Jisung, but he isn’t really Jisung. Hyunjin swallows, offers his hand, and Jisung robotically takes it— they walk aboard the ship together, and Jisung collapses on deck.

He will drift in and out of consciousness for many weeks, body in the physical world and soul stuck in the miroh.

 

**[Epilogue]**

 

Jisung is in the forest. He walks into a little clearing with a small pond in the middle. _I’ve been here before_ , he thinks.

A boy is sitting on the edge of the pond, legs in the water. Jisung catches his breath, steeling himself, then takes off his shoes and joins him. “Hey, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin looks over, and he doesn’t say anything— just takes one look at Jisung’s face, flings his arms around Jisung’s neck and presses their mouths together. It’s a dream but it’s the realest thing that Jisung’s ever felt, a little bit of pain and sadness and a lot of pent-up love. Basically any first kiss, considering the circumstances.

Hyunjin pulls away first, embarrassed. “Jisung,” he says, awkward. “Are we in a dream?”

“Yes.” Jisung swings his legs, which, despite being in the water, don’t feel wet at all. He smiles, bright. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“It is, I haven’t seen you in so long.” Here, Hyunjin’s voice cracks, and Jisung watches in astonishment as tears trickle down his cheeks. Hyunjin puts his face in his hands, trying to stem the flow, but it’s no use. “I swore to myself when we first met that I’d never cry in front of you, but really, I cry a lot. Your _eyes_. They’re normal again.”

Jisung looks at his reflection in the pond— indeed, his irises are brown.

“Don’t cry, I’ll cry too,” Jisung says, and Hyunjin laughs. Jisung presses his forehead against Hyunjin’s shoulder. “I don’t remember anything. What’s going on?”

“We’re back in Ninth. You should be in the palace now, with Changbin,” Hyunjin says. “I went back to the Seungjeon Academy, but the school’s closed now since the king declared war on Chronos. Not sure where I am now.”

“It’s okay,” Jisung says. “I’ll find you.”

“You better.” Hyunjin tilts his head back. “This is so different from our first meeting. We wouldn’t even tell each other our last names. I still don’t know your last name.”

“Han Jisung.”

“Hwang Hyunjin. Pleased to meet you.” Hyunjin smiles, wan. “Minho found Woojin, and Seungmin is okay, by the way. I told him about the ocean. Now he’s worried about you, hopes _you’re_ fine.”

“Well, I am, I’ll wake up soon,” Jisung says. They sit in silence for awhile, in the clearing, legs in the water, quiet like a melody. “With… all of this. I know it wasn’t a choice, any of it. But I’m really glad I met you.”

“I’m really glad I met you, too,” Hyunjin says. He reaches his hands up behind his neck, unclasps the blue pendant that always hangs there. “I think I’ll meet you again anyway, but just in case…”

“Woojin told me to give this to the person who had my heart. Well, here you have it.”

Jisung stares, speechless, hesitantly grasping the chain before tying it around his neck. The blue stone pulses against his throat, a soft heartbeat mixed with a tinge of magic. It spins around, a makeshift compass, pulling him not north but in the right direction.

“Thank you,” Jisung says. “I won’t let it go to waste.”

\---

Jisung wakes up inside of the apothecary’s back room, winces as he gets up. He feels like he’s just woken up from a long sleep. The floor digs into his back.

He’s alone. He looks around for Changbin, but the ghost apothecary isn’t here as of now.

Jisung reaches his hand up, and his fingers close around a blue stone. Part of him still wants to drift off into the miroh. He feels it’s pull, tugging him into some other plane. But the stone around his neck tethers him to _here_ , to a planet that changes everyday. He looks toward the door. He doesn’t know what waits outside of it, doesn’t know the state of the kingdom. He’s finished with the quest, his hands bare, no clé on his skin or ring around his finger. There’s no definite solution to the future.

That’s okay.

He knows where to start. Jisung heads for the door, pushing it open, and walks toward whatever is waiting for him outside.

**Author's Note:**

> in honor of earth day


End file.
